


Red Thread Trash

by real_fanta_sea



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Abuse, Attempt at Humor, Crossdressing, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, Multi, Other characters from the game mentioned, Robbery, Sexual Content, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Violence, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 00:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20612108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/real_fanta_sea/pseuds/real_fanta_sea
Summary: What would happen if Trevor and Michael did not meet at the airfield? In this alternative universe, young Trevor's life takes a different turn and eventually takes him on a path of normal, civic life. Yet, it wouldn't be him if the red thread of fate didn't pull him into trouble.





	1. My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Thank you for checking the first major fanfic I work on (and publish) - It was inspired by a chat we had with Simmeh on Tumblr. Thanks for provoking my imagination, pal :)  
Any comments/constructive critique are welcome. I just want to apologise for any mistakes in advance - English is not my first language, yet I prefer to write in it. I simply find it more colourful :)  
The chapter might not be consistent tense wise - I was tempted by a stream of consciousness which fit Trevor's personality perfectly in my opinion. As for personalities, there might be slight changes here and there - this is an alternative universe where many things didn't happen, therefore didn't affect protagonists. I tried to keep them as close to original characters as possible.  
Hope you enjoy the story :)

“**You are sick, dickhead!**"  
  
That was all she was able to spit out before shutting the door with such force all the yellowish photos on walls thumped the disgusting, bleached out wallpaper they were attached to. It was getting dark and a sharp sound sent shockwaves through creeping silence of the night. Tired street lamps gave out eerie orange light which sculpted everything in soft outlines and gave a fine monochrome touch to washed-out colours of the early evening.  
Dust, startled by the outburst, sat back on surfaces it originally sat on, creating a delicate icing on the ugly cake of an apartment it was in. It was full to the brim, filled with dying cacti in flower pots, virgin self-improvement books, some of them sealed in original plastic, action figures, statues, souvenirs from places so distant and abstract no one ever heard of them, old calendars and along with dozens of empty ball pens an assorted clutter of a bachelor. It was a miracle the small, one-room apartment did not explode with everything stored inside. On the wall next to the door, the landline phone decided to commit what it’s silent owner contemplated for years and fell down from the holder, and hit the ground with an ugly crunch. The sound made the owner snap from lethargy. Up to now, he only stood in the middle of the place, staring at the door emotionless. He felt nothing but a gentle touch of the street light and bags under his eyes growing heavier. When he heard what happened to his world link, he blinked and with a sigh, he took a step forward and hanged the phone back to the holder, inspecting it only to find nothing broke so far. “There, there, not today- You’ll outlive me, little friend” he let out a raspy mumble and rub back of his neck with his other hand.

  
He didn’t feel anything out of ordinary. His back hurt a bit from the lair of his improvised bed and his sedentary job - the latter was most likely the culprit there, but he wouldn’t admit it. His stomach rumbled angrily through the thin skin and onto the fabric of his shirt - two cups of ramen a day were not enough to shut it anymore. His nose was full again - and the dust irritated it as much as it annoyed him. Yet somewhere deep inside him, the void seized power a long time ago and he didn’t give a shit about any of these things anymore. For the life of his, he couldn’t bring himself to grieve the recent loss of a lover either. People always came and went, he thought to himself. People always used him. Cheated him. Played him and inevitably left him when he needed them the most. They left him miserable. Vulnerable. Hurt. He didn’t need nor want them anymore. He abided them. He just wanted them all to die a horrible, gruesome death and if possible, to watch the whole process from the first row, bathe in their cries and pleading and enjoy his utter shortage of fucks to give with a wide grin on his face. Aaand it would make the show so much fun if he got to sprinkle his popcorn with a bit of fresh blood! Hell, if he murdered his shrink first, he would help more people than that stupid jerk ever did in his life. Come to think of it...

  
Suddenly, before he could slide any further on his twisted spiral of thoughts, there was a familiar pressure on one of his feet and a soft purr vibrating against his shin. He blinked the mental image of creatively mutilated psychologist away and eyed his pet with a soft smile. The tomcat which settled on his foot was one of the new members of the pack as he prefered to call his furry companions. It gave those obese fluffy balls of fur a feral glamour of feared predators they might have shared with their ancestors. In reality, his pack preferred the luxury of being fed three times a day and shedding hair on his sweatshirts while sleeping wherever they collapsed. The tiny apartment currently held six members including the human one. They were all flawed to perfection, collected from behind the bars and given a new life. John Silver, the tomcat, curled up securely on his master's barefoot, lack one paw to be a complete, light grey cat. He probably lost it in a scientific experiment which went tremendously wrong and accidentally involved an electric can opener and children of his previous master. He never meowed about it but other cats knew anyway. Then there was Jude Hardy, a brown cat who smelled so bad other hissed anytime at her anytime she came close and made her spend life under the kitchen sink. Johny Lemmon had shotgun scars visible through his tabby and white fur - he got them for meowing too loud. Somewhere under the blanket on a bed was a tabby named Ulysses who lost his tail and ear on his way home one day in an accident. Right beside him slept his sister Sybile who was terribly short-sighted and bumped to anything when she attempted walking around the flat. She was there when her brother was hit by the car but there was nothing she could do to prevent it as she didn't see it coming. The only human left in the pack was named Trevor Philips.

  
With a cat in his arms, he made his way through a maze of full bookshelves and sat heavily into an old armchair, fidgeting to find the perfect angle. Nothing could ever compare to a fuzzy feeling of love he shared with his pack. A soft touch of fur soothed him in a way his prescription pills would never do. Trevor raised his eyes from a purring bundle of joy he held and run his fingertips down its spine, scratching and gently stroking every now and then, completely lost in his own palace of thoughts again. There’s still a couple of hours left till next dose, he thought to himself. He vividly remembered the first week he was forced to medication - a wild roar of anger and disgust from being put on a schedule, from becoming a number not worth anything else but chemical alternation. He hated every touch of an old, naphthalene smelling nurse or the bull kind of a doctor who forced his jaw open to the point it snapped on one wonderful evening. He always had himself for a person not bound by any chains or rules. His persistence in breaking rules and spitting medicine was legendary. Heck, he did it for fun. It gave him all the attention he never had and fuck people who had to pay for it with their health of job. However, one day, he woke up a different person. The mighty, untamed creature he once was was gone, and the only memory it left were nail scratches on sterile white walls of his cell and a variety of body fluids mixed and smeared all over the ceiling in a brutal, honest impersonation of Michelangelo’s chapel. The day the beast went missing was a breaking point. The world he woke up to was void of bright colours. Every bit and piece of his existence felt detached, taken aback, abstract. He would always recall the feeling of cold liquid under his bare feet and a horrid smell that brought him to senses. He never asked the doctor how long he had stood in his own faeces nor did he ask why he pissed blood. He would never tell him. Instead, he got yet another dose of medicals. And he obeyed this time. And every time they came he accepted it. Trevor knew too well they broke him and shaped him like a piece of Tetris puzzle so he could fit in the line. He knew he lost himself in the process. But since he got separated, he couldn’t bring himself to care. And when they eventually let him out of the bright white hell, when they dressed him in a cheap second-hand suit and gave him a small place to live, he didn’t rebel. He obeyed. He followed the lead. He spoke to his shrink. He got a pet. He got a job. He drank water. He ate. He slept. He shat. The same fairy tale noir of a lonely life on repeat forever. He fit the line too well.

  
Trevor let his hand slip from Silver’s back onto an armrest. Orange coloured light from outside mixed with neon from a place he could see through a narrow alley which led to his block of flats. A bright red, intrusive and obscene. A moth trap set up with fresh meet every week, he thought to himself. He eyed the place from his armchair and looked around. His last love interest came from that bar. All she left behind was a used toothbrush in a plastic cup on a kitchen sink, a pair of bob pins under the bed and lingering smell of cheap perfume piercing everything it touched with a brutal force. She was not that different from any other woman he ever knew. Each of them wanted money and stripped men of it by shaking their asses and burying faces into their sagging cleavages. Even if they did not admit it, be it high-class wive all glamour and chic or a grey mouse of an accountant in his shithole of a job, they all were miserable whores, bitches not worth a dollar yet they would surely kill for it if given a chance. They all wore insufferable perfumes and fake smiles that made his blood boil. Unfortunately, when he got a job as an assistant in a small branch of a Fleeca bank, he had no idea the place would be full of such creatures. He recalled the first day of work with a sigh, being yelled at for not bringing a latte for accountants, then for not fetching paper clips fast enough, and then again and again till he was let out in the afternoon, completely stripped of dignity and quite frankly, he didn’t even have the energy to sustain one at given time. Now that the fifth year of his atonement passed by, all he wanted was to burn the place down as a celebration. He hasn’t done it yet. His favourite coffee mug was there and he chose not to risk such a loss.

  
The red light took over and illuminated his way when he carefully put Silver down and took a couple of careful steps towards an old cupboard and let it moan its screech into the night. With a light chuckle, he grabbed the colourful box realising they made his mind work in schedules and tech plans. He never put it on the same place two days in a row when he first came there. Now it had its fucking place right beside unused penis-shaped pasta he received in secret Santa game at work a couple of years ago. They had their place too. Never moved an inch. Trevor popped the lid and slid an elephant worth of pills into the palm of his. Funny how everything looks like candy a second before you start tripping balls. He knew the thrill too well. Fishing a dirty glass out of the sink, filling it with piss some still called water and swallow it like an obedient little bitch he was. Good, good. Let them keep you alive or let them kill you in ways which are not as fun as drugs. As he felt the chemicals taking rule over him, everything was good somehow. The room swayed. The colours exploded. He fell on the bed. Good. Good. Good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for chapter 1 - I included a couple of pop culture/literature references - did you spot them all? ;)  
I can't wait to get to chapter 2! Meanwhile, you can keep up with me on Tumblr (same username) :)  
Best, H.


	2. Not so grand theft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor finds himself working as usual, which means being bullied by other staff. Little does he know this Monday won't be the same as any other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before you start reading, be warned - this chapter is VERY graphic at one point, with some hints of sex and violence. If you prefer not to read this chapter, see a short summary at the end of the chapter.
> 
> I'm happy to be back to this story. Creative anxiety hit me hard at times and carrying on is difficult.  
This chapter is not as experimental as the first one, relying on a traditional narrative, but it's much longer. Hope you'll like it!

bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep

a swing of an arm and loud crack of plastic. silence interrupted by a couple of low grunts.

Trevor was woken up by his alarm clock blasting into his ear and a cat fur filling his nose. He felt a bit dizzy. He might have broken another clock as that fucker always shattered his fragile skull to thousand pieces and left his brain a muddy, aching mush. It could as well be midnight for all he knew. Or next weekend. Or in the next century. Space and time slipped his perception whenever he was on his bedtime meds.

Trevor yawned and brushed a wild dark stubble on his cheek. Judging by the silence in the house, it must have been early morning. Good. He swung his feet down the nest he made out of his bed and startled one of the cats, John Silver, to the point of hissing and escaping his presence. To Trevor, the first touch of balls of his feet and the cold floor was a reminder of his childhood. Every morning, the chilling touch shot him right back to the mind of the six-year-old him, when he used to sleep on a thin mattress that smelled like piss and blood. When he was woken up by a harsh pull on his ankle and a dragged out of the somewhat warm comfort to witness who they said was his father beat his mum. Bullies at school. His abusive lazy pig of a brother. The taste of blood on his lips. The vast emptiness where something that others called love and compassion was meant to be. He felt like home.

Once he got over his daily flashback, he decided to sedate himself with some legal shit his doctor prescribed. Not as good as speed, but he had to be a good boy to get more of it. A few shaky steps got him to the sink and he got hold of a glass of water. Gulping down what could as easily be stones, he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. Sharp, crude features tinted blue in the early morning light, eyes dark and toned down to pitch black. A mutilated predator, huh? A tiger with his leg cut off. He left the tiger at the asylum. It stayed there caged for almost 6 years already. He had to obey.

The rest of the morning caught him a bit more active than usual - perhaps he took too many pills and - and was pleasantly high and agitated. Fed his cats, shaved clean, had a brisk cold shower and even managed to squeeze a coffee into his busy morning. He still had a hard time tying his tie, however - it felt more of a noose than anything else. Not that he wasn’t familiar with that feeling, but relieving the world of the pain in the ass he seemed to be was not on his schedule for today. Not yet, that is.  
He strolled down the empty street, checking his ancient watch - 7:45, just on time. A crunch of filth under his soles was soon replaced by gentle taps on swept, light pavement of downtown Creedence. He danced in the orderly streets filled with crispy air Just a stop to Bean Machine to pick up latte for the bank hag convention, a doughnut to the chief manager and an egg sandwich for that cute security guard, turn the corner and there it is. Fleeca bank squeezed into the middle of the street, still dim and sleepy in the early morning light. Part of Trevor felt a bit of discomfort upon the sight. Sharp pain in his stomach even. This place chained him. A slight hint of anger bubbling from the pit of his belly. Tainted him. Always have. But it paid the bills and drugs. Suddenly, the lightness was gone. Make money, spend them, repeat till the end of your days. 

Eventually, he exhaled and let the thought go. He swore he could feel shivers as he grasped the handle of the glass door with his free hand and pulled. Placing the refreshment on the table in the waiting part of the bank, he moved over to the light switch and flipped it over to “on” with a nasty click. This was his love-hate relationship, the switch meant both start and finish of his workday and he got sick of it to the point of sticking paper clips inside just to fuck it up. It didn’t work. Frowning, his gaze brushed upon every piece of furniture in that damn room. Fake marble on cheap wood imitation. Uncomfortable pea-green plush seats. Cheap plaster ceiling. This was his personal hell. Pea-green plush hell.

A hard nudge to his shoulder brought Trevor back to his senses, and a few quick blinks. “Good morning, Colin” he faked a small smile and rushed over to the table to get this giant of a security guard with a babyface his coffee and egg sandwich. He allowed himself to be intimidated by the mass of pure muscle that raised upon him. “Good morning, Trevor”. A smooth, deep voice filled the empty hall. Whatever Trevor felt towards people here, Colin was on his “don’t kill” list. Despite a brutal episode a couple of years ago in which Trevor got a rib broken, Colin never laid a finger on him. He was tempting him. He got what he deserved. “Do you feel it too?” Colin asked, and Trevor’s mouth gaped in silence for a moment and then spoke without him prompting it. “What… What do you mean?” and did his best to look puzzled and dumbfounded. “Something’s in the air, man. I don’t know - I felt like I should have run home the moment I set off to work today.” “Uh, oh.. is.. is it bad?” Colin, who looked out of the glass door up to then, picking up something in the distance that wasn’t really there with his hands tightly glued to his sides, looked back at Trevor, eyebrows shot higher than ever before. “You gotta be kidding me, man! Of course it is bad, the gut never lies man!” and proceeded to get very suspicious, analyzing a bead of sweat on Trevor’s upper lip. “You never had these feelings of anticipation?” Trevor shook his head sheepishly. The big guy’s nice but short in temper. Not worth disagreeing with. Mental note made long ago.

The lunch break found Trevor stuck by the printer. One of the hussies managed to copy a stampled piece of paper and it got stuck god knows where in the machine. Certainly out of Trevor’s reach, he felt his anger fill him up to the brim. “You piece of shit” he murmured for himself and let a drop of sweat fall down, right into the intestines of his mechanical patient. This is not what he was meant to do. He was a pilot for Pete’s sake, not a copy machine mechanic. He found flying much easier and natural than all this ordeal. If he didn’t injure that stupid bitch who labelled him unstable, he could have flown to his heart’s content. Instead, he was stuck with this plastic fucker. Almost there. His fingers got the very tip of paper and pulled cautiously. It ripped. Again. The majority was gone now. Just a bit more, a bit of paper to get out and it’s done…

It was around three in the afternoon when Trevor finally got out of the back office and wiped his hands on his shabby trousers in an elated mood. “I hope you didn’t tear it, Phillips!” Elated mood.exe stopped responding. “Unfortunately, I could not get it out in one piece, Charlie… I am sorry.” A slim, tall lady in a yellow costume dress hovered over him like a thunder cloud. “What did I tell you about addressing me by my first name, Phillips?” she hissed, jaw clenched. “You piece of shit, you’ll pay for that” Trevor was ready for the impact of her hand on his cheek. After all he went through, a smack from a lady could only get him started up for better. He met eyes with her and saw disgust and anger. If she wasn’t black and in her late 20’s, she would be a spitting image of his mother after he got back from his third foster home. Same disgust, same rage, same hand size. Trevor closed his eyes and held his breath in the silent anticipation.

“THIS IS A ROBBERY! EVERYBODY LAY DOWN”

Shot of a gun and swush of a plaster bleeding from the ceiling.

“ANY OF YOU DO SOMETHING FUNNY I’LL FUCKING END YOUR WHOLE DAMN EXISTENCE RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!”

This wasn’t the smack he expected. Trevor opened his eyes to see Charlie with her hand still raised, staring wide-eyed, mouth gaping at the invader. It took her a second to scream and throw herself and her disgusting costume dress onto the plaster covered floor and shiver like a dog. What a pleasant change of roles. Abusive bitch.  
Trevor turned his head to see the culprit. In a mixture of pale dust, hanging light tubes and screams, he held himself above it all nonchalantly, shaved shotgun rested on his shoulder and his other hand on black-dressed waist, a smug expression in his ocean blue eyes behind a thick balaclava. Trevor lost it for a moment. The moment he met eyes with the robber, he felt something break within himself. The hot and cold sensation made him swallow air. He couldn’t take his eyes off him for whatever reason it was. This man was something he missed from his younger days. Wild and free to do whatever he wanted. Maybe he could persuade him to take him away from all this. Maybe he was the wake-up call he needed. He wanted to spread his wings once again, right in the middle of this plaster disaster.

********************************************************

Michael didn’t like Mondays. Hated them, to be precise. Oh, and soggy, second-day fries too. This morning presented him with both at once. He yawned and kicked off his cheap blanket, making the fries splat on the worn wooden floor. Seedy motels could only provide so much. At least there were no bed bugs and sperm smears on the mattress. The receptionist was a nearly blind wrinkled lady well in her late 80’s and didn’t ask questions. That maybe was because she didn’t speak English, but still, it was nice. As a matter of fact, this place was one of the best he slept in since the divorce. Oh, here we go again. Why the fuck must his first though be of the biggest failure of his life? He once had everything he wanted - or thought he wanted. A wife, two kids, a nice house on a quiet place with a picket fence and even landed a job in an insurance company. Well, to be quite honest, he hated that soul-sucking job, but hey, his wife was nagging all the time about his former “profession” and listening to a bunch of broke losers was better than to listen to that bitch. And look at him now, sitting where he sat 15 years ago, older, worn out and as broke as he was back then.  
Michael stretched and let his joints crack in disagreement. He pushed his palms into his eyes, desperately trying not the reminisce of the past with little to no effect.  
He should have cut off that bastard’s penis the moment he came to their house, he thought as he walked over to the bathroom and aimed to take that sweet morning piss. He should have read their faces better. All those accidental touches, long gazes and faked smiles. Ironed white shirts and low-necked black dresses. Smeared lipstick. Flushed cheeks. He should have killed them both back then. Why the hell did she have to fuck Tracy’s 6th grade teacher? In Jimmy’s room of all places?  
Michael checked himself out in the old, broken mirror. One delicate silver strain of hair lined side of his head. Wrinkles cut deeper than yesterday. His eyes were weary. This is a man who gave his everything and ended up with nothing. That’s what you get for ditching your crew to overheat your balls in an office chair - restrictive order, broke ass and hopelessly limp dick.

A sudden knock on his door had him jump a little and he leapt to the door. He opened them only so much to get a glimpse of who was standing behind. Pig-like face, thin blonde hair, crooked grin, stocky build. “Come on in, Brad.” he exhaled and tried his best to sound neutral, but failed miserably. “Hey, Mikey Mike Mike” the pigman teased in a singsong tone, bouncing through the room. “Slept well, huh?” Michael didn’t like the attitude on this fucker at all. Dead serious, he shut the door and supporting himself on the doorknob, he asked

“Have we fucked yesterday?”

Brad swallowed a sharp burst of laughter. “You sure gave me the head of the century, buddy. Too bad you were not eager for me to repay the favour, ya know what I mean?” he added with a shit-eating grin. “What did you slip into my drink, motherfucker?” Michael growled in a low, warning voice. “I would never suck your dirty junk” This is it. He’s gonna treat himself to some pork barbeque this evening cause this fucker is going down.  
Brad completely missed the warning and bounced back and forth on his feet, hands in his dirty denim jacket. “More of a fatherfucker if you don’t mind, honey” he chanted proudly, sending a jolt of disgust down Michael’s spine. He had to swallow that rage before he really did something stupid. Don’t worry, Mike, chances are he’s going to be dead this evening, he thought.

“Anyway” Michael cleared his throat and frowned out of the window where the road was swallowed by thick woods. “What have you found?” Brad sat down on a bed and spread out a crumpled map of Creedence town and surroundings. “Well, we are here” he pointed to a small penis drawing on the map, placed roughly over the motel they were in. “And here,” he pressed his finger on the map, “is the local Fleeca bank branch. It is the only bank in the region, which means people and businesses rush there with their savings.” Michael nodded. “Security?” he asked. Brad fished a stained polaroid photo from his pocket. “This one guy. Starts at 8 and finishes at 6. Has lunch break at around 2”. Michael rubbed his chin with his thumb. “Is he really the only one? No guards in the back? No cops monitoring the place?” Brad pulled off his oh-so-smart grin. “No, it’s downtown. No cops there. I checked” Michael didn’t smile back. He just made his eyes show all the doubt he had upon entrusting this idiot with monitoring the place of their next job. Yet again, Brad completely missed it and continued with his triumph speech. “This is the police place. The opposite side of the town - it got them a good 10 minutes to get there when I called them from the phone booth. I guess they might be faster when called from the bank.” How come Michael ended up doing this with him of all people? He sighed “I guess… What else?” Brad threw a card key on the map and pointed towards another thing on the map. “So I went to Clearwater - that’s next town thing in this damned state - and booked a nice little hotel room just for you and me. It has no reception and you pay cash. Plus, it’s more than 5 hours drive away - that should give us some alone time” and winked obliviously. Michael pouted his lips a bit in disgust but quickly smoothed this expression into his usual poker face. There’s a price that comes with everything. Brad wanted sex. Michael needed Brad to rob a bank with him. Still, he wished Brad would just fuck off.  
“When?” he heard himself say. Brad pointed his greasy finger on a bag in the corner of the room, “Now”

**********************************

This was it. There he stood, adrenaline rushing, vibrating through his whole being. Trevor stared in awe as the bigger of two men proceeded to rake cash with his hands and fill a large black bag. The shorter one still stood there, cautiously overlooking the room, gun ready to blow. For some reason, he didn’t mind Trevor standing there. He might as well be invisible to him. Trevor’s heart throbbed in a strange way.

“PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP, BASTARD!” 

A thunder of Colin’s voice filled the room and rendered it silent in a second, with the only sound being the distant chant of police sirens. He just ran out of the back office, mouth still greasy from his lunch, hands trembling a little.  
The smaller man turned his head to him as if he were in that situation a thousand times before. “Shut the fuck up” he growled. “You don’t know what you are playing with, son.”  
Colin shivered upon the cold and collected response. His hands were sweaty and trembled greatly as he swallowed loudly. Trevor watched this exchange cautiously, observing the fear in young man’s handsome face. No matter how big they are, they always fear the unknown of death. Pathetic, he chuckled.  
“Hey, move your ass B!” the shorter robber exclaimed. At the very same moment, the stocky man grunted and wheezed, zipping up bags full of cash and throwing them over to the smaller one. Colin quickly turned his head and while pointing the gun at the first robber, he swung one arm around the collector and pushed his gun onto his temple.  
The robber gasped, the shorter one sighed and pointed his own gun loosely at the couple.  
“I’ll shoot him! Your friend’s gonna die! Put the gun down and no one gets hurt!” Colin exclaimed, trying his best to cover up shaky uncertainty in his voice. “Michael, do SOMETHING!” the stocky one pleaded, twitching in a vice grip of the guard. “I don’t wanna die here!” The short robber squeezed his gun harder, and with knuckles white, he let out a strange, deep chuckle. “You got only one thing right, son. He IS gonna die. But he never was my friend.” A loud bark of a shot. A second of silence.

A woman’s scream was an understandable reaction. A mix of blood and a mash of what once was brain splattered upon the glass of the nearest counter and plaster covered floor. Colin was hit into the chest and with eyes wide open, he only gasped for air and threw up blood as if he was not quite capable of comprehending what had just happened. What was left of the robber spasmed in a dark pool of his own fluids spreading around him. The top of his blown off skull rested comfortably between the water dispenser and some kind of ugly houseplant in the far corner of the room.  
People started to panic. Women cried, curled behind plush seats or counters, someone was helping the guard who fell in and out of consciousness. Trevor felt he was near to throwing up. He saw blood before. Hell, he even killed stray pets for fun as a kid. Yet, never in his life had he shot a person. The smell of blood and movement of dying limbs was something he was not prepared for right now.

The sirens cried closer than before. Dangerously close. The short robber cursed under his breath and decided to take both bags full of money and run for it, just when the first police car stopped with a loud screech of brakes. The car spew out a couple of rangers, pointing guns at him. He panicked a bit and turned his head in search of any other escape route. There was none. Hostage. He had to get a fucking hostage. His eyes shot to Trevor.  
Oh shit.  
“Let me trough or he gets the same treatment!”  
The officers turned for a moment to see where the robber pointed. One of them just cursed.  
Trevor was overwhelmed by the sheer animal-like power the short robber used to drag him around. His heart was racing with disgust and excitement. And under all those clothes and masquerade, he could feel the robber's heart raced too. He didn’t mind being shoved around. He didn’t mind the cold gun poking his cheek. He was let free at last.

The robber grunted as he threw bags of money to his van. Trevor was the last one to be thrown into the darkness of the van, and he instinctively curled up between two stuffed money bags. “Do not follow me, or else your friend here might see the Lord a bit sooner than intended.” he heard a voice crack as he stared to the darkness. Another loud bang of the car door and the van accelerated, ripping asphalt under its’ wheels. There was no sensation he could describe at the moment. His mind played tricks on him and threw colourful neon projections of what just happened into darkness enveloping him. There was no escape. His cats would die. He would die. Nothing there is can help him. A pair of ocean blue irises with nothing behind them. Trevor started to shiver. This is the tiger, back on its’ feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your feedback and kudos - it keeps me going in my darkest times.
> 
> For those who skipped, here's the summary:  
Trevor is taken a hostage by Michael, who gets to rob his workplace by chance.  
Brad, who robbed the place with Michael, was killed in action.


	3. Ready, set, go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael found himself a new companion - Trevor, of all people. Now that they are on the run together, it's time to get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos, and especially to pleasedontholdmyhand, who was the first to bookmark this story! Thank you very much, it is a huge encouragement! :)  
This chapter is not as violent as the last one, and slightly longer to give you some insight into the newly formed relationship.  
I hope you'll like it - I was so excited to write it :) have fun!

Michael cursed a lot more than usual. Why did that fucking kid have to resist so much? He could have made use of Brad. Now he’s stuck with this rag and bone weirdo.  
He should have taken one of those girls a hostage. A guy deserves some fun after a botched job.

It was almost midnight. A black velvet veil covered what once was sunlit, friendly woods and made it a hostile pitch-black jungle. Michael drove the van through the inky night on the smallest dirt roads. One can never be cautious enough with cops on his ass. Especially not with a guy in a trunk. The fact the hostage was still alive didn’t help it. Suddenly, Mike’s stomach growled and kicked the inside of his belly in a very uncomfortable way. Not only he was grumpy, but he was also hungry, which as a matter of fact have not improved the situation a tiny bit. Oh well, he hasn’t eaten since the evening before and could not bear with fries from the motel room floor. They were in the middle of nowhere which ruled out a nice and friendly Burger Shot drive-through. He wouldn’t mind that funny tasting chicken from Cluckin’ Bell either, hell, even a Bean Machine muffin would be enough to stuff that hungry hole shut. Michael’s forehead shined with diamond-like drops of sweat when he recalled the orgasmic pleasure bacon with smoky mayo served on a chopped cow along with crispy golden-brown buns gave him. That first bite of a burger that made greasy juice and mayo run down his fingers. Oh god, the sensation of licking it off his fingers after the meal. Or having it licked. Wet, insatiable tongue on his skin, lapping soiled skin clean. Michael shivered. Damn, this evening was only getting worse, wasn’t it?  
Once he found a good-enough place to stop the car, he hit the brakes and while the vehicle squealed in disagreement, he shut the engine and fished a flashlight from a small compartment between front seats, along with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He needed a smoke and a piss - a cigarette to wind down the hunger and empty his bladder to settle the painful twitch in his underbelly leftover from his thoughts of food. A few careful steps echoed witch crunch of dirt under his feet. Fly opening and closing with a familiar zip sound. A silent snap of the lighter awakened a tiny tongue of bright flame and painted his face orange for a brief moment. A click and it was gone. Only a tiny red dot in the dark marked where Michael stood.

He inhaled with all his might. A well-known, secure feeling washed over him with every pull. He was still alive. Everything was going to be ok. His stomach growls subdued to the pleasure tobacco offered and gave room to smooth silence enveloping the place. With the vehicle’s engine stopped and lights off, he could only hear silent moans that petrified him for a bit. Turning around, he was yet again hit by the fact there was another one with him. Is the guy in the van really masturbating? Michael shivered from disgust and inhaled mouthful of soothing smoke. After Brad, he hoped not to encounter a guy in any other way than passing him on a street or a road. Mike knew guys were attracted to him for some reason. Just a bat of eyelashes and they came running to get a piece of him. A look into his eyes and they were lost forever. The last pull from the cigarette tasted weird and tore the thread of his thoughts. The filter burned, god damn it. Michael threw what was left of the cig on the ground and pressed it against the cold soil with a tip of his shoe in an easy way of someone who has done this every day for 20 years. Cleaning his throat, he turned around to listen to moans from inside the van. He could throw him out, right here, in the middle of nowhere. If he was important, they would come looking for him. If he wasn’t, well, that would be a very unlucky day for the poor fella. The important thing was he would no longer be his problem.

Sudden shivers and a bit of goosebump caught Michael off-guard. Instinctively, he run his arms around his chest in an improvised self-hug and rubbed cool skin beneath the thin white tank top. He knew he had a blanket in the back - in case he needed a makeshift mobile home, and he hoped his new guest is not marking it with sperm, or worse fluids of choice. Clicking a button on the flashlight, he opened the van door violently to see his hostage humping his own hand, only to catch him sleeping, curled between bags full of money, moaning and shivering in his sleep.

Sudden noise woke Trevor up. Half asleep, he looked up and squinted his eyes to prevent bright light from hurting him. “What’s your name?” a voice asked. “Trevor. Trevor Phillips - you?” He heard a soft chuckle. “I’ll tell you my name and you’ll snitch as soon as we get near someone with a phone. Nah, not a good idea.” Trevor was a bit disappointed. “What do I call you then?” silence. “Call me M.” Trevor’s brain came to its senses a bit and sparked an idea. “M? Oh yeah, your companion called you Michael in the bank, didn’t he?” A very uncomfortable silence pierced with the sound of feet shifting position and flashlight blinking. Trevor gulped. He expected a bullet. For real this time. “Listen, fucker. Congratulation on remembering my name. I really am thrilled you know it” A low, sarcastic growl did something funny to Trevor’s stomach, something he could not put a finger on. He sat still, listening cautiously, mouth shut, eyes wide open, lost in the new sensation. “Good thing is you are MY hostage now, asshole - you better keep your mouth shut and do what I say cause if not, I’m going to paint the ground with your brain.” Fair enough, as much threat as expected, Trevor analyzed. He missed a mother figure already anyway.  
“This van has rules, you turd, so listen closely.” the rusty white vehicle rocked with a tired creak of springs as the Michael climbed aboard and shut the door with an oblivious slam. A weak light suddenly flashed into Michael’s face as he turned to Trevor, dead serious. “No talking back, no touching, no fighting, no masturbating, no shitting or pissing inside the van. You do what I say - no exceptions. Behave and you’ll a have the privilege of food and water. You do something stupid like trying to run away or calling the cops and I’ll finish the job. Do you understand?” Trevor nodded slightly, eyes glued on the fallen angel’s face opposite his own. He wondered who would even want to escape from Michael’s presence.  
Wait a second… What the hell happened to him? What was this new feeling? Why is all this so fucking confusing?  
“Fine. Hand me that plastic bag, the one in the corner.” Trevor blinked upon the command and mechanically turned around in search of a bag in a dimly lit van, feeling a pair of eyes piercing him from behind. Shit, shit, shit. “Is this it?” he asked in a tone he desperately wanted to be neutral but came out as tense. Michael’s eyes swiftly analyzed the bag and then met with his. What Trevor wasn’t prepared for was a sly smirk and spark of something within his belly when he heard his name slip the other man’s lips. “Very good, Trevor. Give me it.” His feet suddenly felt like jelly. Must have been missed drugs. Yeah, definitely the drugs. “Stop checking me out asshole and hand it over.” Michael’s word pierced the thickening air inside the wan. Oh right, the bag. He didn’t want to make him angry, did he?

****************************************

Michael tossed and turned under a thick blanket. Despite being dead tired, he just could not relax properly and counting sheep sounded just as stupid and pointless as forcibly closing his eyes. The stuffed duffel bag under his head could only provide so much comfort to keep it levelled evenly to his shoulders. He ruled out an urge to go and smoke a cigarette. It wasn’t the bladder or bowel either. Things were off since the oh-so-lovely guest of his brushed his fingers against his own and Michael could have sworn the man choked down a moan of pleasure. He heard enough guys and gals cry consumed by passion under his touch to recognize the sound immediately. What the fuck was his problem? That Trevor guy should have been scared shitless and beg for his life. Instead, he obeyed without hesitation, checked him up with gaping mouth and got aroused with just a brush of his fingers? Has he landed him a middle-aged gay masochist with a rapidly developing Stockholm syndrome? Has he given him signals he was not aware of? He should have never entrusted Brad with that damn job. Fuck him and fuck all that happened that day.

“Mmmm...yes” Michael’s eyes shot wide open as his thoughts were interrupted by a soft pleading moan from the opposite side of the van floor. “Hey Phillips, I said NO MASTURBATION!” he kicked towards the sleeping man but missed and jammed his toes full speed on something solid and cold. “Oh fuck” he winced and rolled on the floor, trying his best to hiss and puff the pain away. Soft snoring of the second man didn’t help it at all. Trevor’s sleepily whispering “Hit me harder baby” made Michael roar his rage into the pitch-black silence, darting forward.  
“Are you fucking making fun of me? Are you, motherfucker?” This time, he aimed the right direction and hit the bull’s eye, waking Trevor up in record-breaking speed.  
“Shit, my balls!” the kicked man squealed in a high-pitched voice and curled instinctively to cover against hits showering from the darkness.  
“You piece of turd, I swear I’ll cut them off!” Michael felt strangely empowered kicking the asshole beside him. This by far overthrown any sleeping pill he ever had. “I’ll teach you not to beat your meat in my ride you bastard” Trevor crying in defence only fueled him further and hit harder.  
It took him solid 10 minutes to wind down and recline onto the duffel bag. His breath was shallow and fast, his heart was racing, but the tension was gone and he felt much better. Sweat on his back gradually cooled him down and he slipped into a pleasant deep sleep, Trevor’s muffled cries a lullaby he needed.

*****************************************

The morning proved itself to be pleasantly hot and filled with sunshine. Michael had the best sleep since his wedding night and bounced back and forth on his feet, cigarette held between his index finger and thumb to show off the attitude he woke up with. Birds chirped cheerfully in the trees and the slope of cleared forest offered a nice sneak peek on the distant town of Creedence, that woke up a couple of bucks lighter that day. Michael estimated somewhere around 20 to 50 thousand sat securely in the back of his car and life was great. With the last pull of the cigarette, he lightly pressed his back against the van, let his head fall towards the cold tin wall and closed his eyes. This was what he missed, rush and release. His entire being was vibing with the universe and things were just the way they were meant to be. If there was no Trevor, knocking lightly on the already open door of the car.  
“May I go and take a pee?” he asked in a cautious tone of a middle schooler on verge of soiling his own pants. Michael could not help but chuckle. He must have tenderized the boy good last night. At least he won’t polish his bone anymore without him prompting it. “Go ahead, you have my permission.” He was feeling better now he was in charge of everything. Why trust someone else when you know better. The way Trevor rushed on tips of his feet, unzipping his fly in advance to groan in pleasure when the sizzling stream hit dry leaves under his feet made Michael bite his lips a bit and an evil, nasty thought ran through his mind when he realized Trevor was sure as hell into edging.  
“All done?” he asked in a teasing voice and found a strange enjoyment in a way Trevor turned around with completely puzzled facial expression. “I guess?” was not a response satisfying enough, but the face he wore was priceless.  
“Fix me something to drink, will you?” Michael’s features turned cold “Now.” Trevor nodded sheepishly and rushed back to the van and leapt inside to grab whatever was canned and resembled a drinkable liquid. Only when his slightly shaking hand stuck out of the van, Michael noticed the extent of his late-night boxing practice. Trevor was covered with dark blue bruises, one of his eyebrows was torn and judging by caked blood under Trevor’s nails and on stained sleeves, he did his best not to spill it on the van floor. Bags under his eyes turned darker overnight and emphasized pain hidden behind a pair of amber-brown eyes. As Michael swept him with an inspecting sight, Trevor started to shiver. “Is this what you wanted?” Trevor asked in a way a kicked puppy would if it knew how to speak. The air around Michael suddenly grew ice cold. Oh no, not this memory again.

“Is this what you wanted, daddy?” a doll-like face of a sobbing girl framed by golden pigtails looked upon him with a pair of blue eyes which were hurt beyond repair and unforgiving. “Have you come home early to hurt me?" Michael’s throat tightened. “No honey, I’m sorry, I really am!” He tried to envelop the girl in a hug but she flinched and run away. He came home from work angry that day and his daughter was the first to welcome him. All he wanted was a drink and smoke all by himself, not a cheering preschooler shoving doodles to his face and stepping on his freshly waxed shoes to get his attention. He tried to make her go away, but she was too excited to see daddy home and was insatiable with her pleads for attention. Eventually, he barked a slur and brushed her away, mind covered in a strange kind of haze that made him hit too hard. Tracy literally flew across the room and hit a table hard with her side, silence in the room torn by a nasty crack. Michael vividly remembered her on her knees, holding onto to her broken arm, crying. Whatever haze has obscured him was gone when he rushed to help her. It was more of an instinct than real remorse. He was not afraid about the physical damage at all, it was just a broken arm. What he could have broken was his daughter’s trust in him and that was worse. “Is this what you wanted?”

Trevor did not understand what happened. Michael froze still for a moment, mouth slightly open, eyes focused on something that was not really there. Trev tried to shake a can of soda in his hand a little to remind him it was there to no avail. “Michael?” he tried addressing him, cautiously. “Your drink?” This at least sparked some response. Michael looked him in the eye and gulped, still lost somewhere else than the present. “Did I do something wrong, Michael?”  
“Shut up and get to the front seat,” Michael replied, coming to his senses eventually, while he snatched the open can from Trevor’s outstretched hand with too much care for someone who beat the shit out of him last night.

*********************************

It was a very tense, silent ride. The engine hummed monotonously, cans of food and drinks clacked against each other in the back of the van with every dent on the road they hit, springs creaked a bit, but except that, the vehicle was silent. Michael held the steering wheel too tightly and clenched his jaw for too long for Trevor to attempt a conversation. Eventually, he rested his chin into a cupped hand and watched the landscape running by. This part of the states was rural and except for woods and fields, there was nothing much to observe. Under steel-grey clouds that covered the previously optimistic pink-slanted sky during the early afternoon, it even felt like they stood still with someone else moving props in the background. His thoughts were inconsistently shattered all over the place. What had he done that made him so angry? Why did he freeze upon a sigh of a plain Sprunk soda can? Has he possibly cut his tongue drinking from one? Has he cut a different part of his body attempting something unlikely but very arousing? Why did he want him to sit in the front if he didn’t want to spare a word or two? His eyes darted from Michael’s profile and back on the road for so long it bored the hell out of him. Analyzing his new companion sure was nice, but he got accustomed to it fairly quickly and soon, the sight of the stocky robber was as natural as breathing to him. Trevor decided to take the initiative and do something to entertain himself. He ruled out touching Michael as he was still sore from the previous night and didn’t want what was leftover from the anger. Clearing his throat, he hoped to get Michael’s attention but failed miserably. Then, he scanned the interior of the van in hope there was a compartment or a niche filled with magazines or tapes or anything that could ease his ordeal. Soon enough, he found where Michael kept his cigarettes and lighter. Flicking it open unnoticed, he stared at the fascinating flame for a moment and without any way to explain it or a second thought, he set a sleeve of his shirt on fire.  
“Hey, look!” he cheered from the passenger’s seat, “I’m on fire!” and stuck his arm right in front of Michael’s face.  
“Oh shit!” the driver exclaimed and yanked the wheel in his hands in panic, rendering the van dancing in a dangerous speed from one side of the road to another, creaking and squealing in disagreement. “What the fuck, Trevor! What the actual fuck!” It worked, he had his attention. “Hey there, it’s nice to have you talking for a change” he purred, proud of his expert-level social skills, not minding the wild rocking of the vehicle. “You are on fucking fire, man, put it out!” Michael roared hysterically and hit brakes to stop on the side of the road. Trevor lightly tapped the smoking fabric and grinned childishly as he observed Michael’s pale, agitated face.  
“What was that?” Michael growled and let his hands slip from the steering wheel right onto his lap, eyes still fixed on the road. Trevor shrugged. “I was getting bored” apparently wasn’t a very bright response as Trevor found himself squeezed in the throat by a strong hand.  
“Bored, huh?” Michael pulled him closer to face him eye to eye. Trevor took a choked breath and watched him cautiously. “You just lay a new rule upon yourself, asshole. No flames in my car. Or elsewhere. No fire. Understood?” Trevor nodded as he took up Michael’s smell - a distinct touch of cologne mixed with cheap tobacco and his own salty musk. Now that was something he could get hooked on. Once Michael let go of the grip putting up a disgusted grimace, Trevor’s own hand shot up to inspect the damage, but except for a pinkish fresh bruise, there was nothing he could complain about. The only remainder of this episode was a charred sleeve on what was once Trevor’s shirt. The van was moving again, but this time, it was Michael who started the conversation in a very tired tone.  
“We are almost out of fuel and you need a new top. Take the map and find where we are right now.”


	4. Camping in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of weeks passed since Michael and Trevor escaped and grew a strange friendship. The camping night in the linden tree valley turns it even stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back with a brand new chapter :)  
Before we start, here's a shout-out to Verbo, who left such nice feedback I had to run around and laugh like an idiot :D  
Thank you very much for your kind words and support, it means more than a lot to me!  
This chapter is dedicated to you :)
> 
> Now onto it - we'll explore the entirely new aspect of the couple's relationship if you know what I mean ;)  
In case you are not into smut, feel free to skip it. The rest of you, be my guests.

What was left of the meek spring was now swept away by the first heatwave of summer. The sky burned bright orange as the sun slowly sank below the mountain-laced horizon. The air was thick and filled with a faint smell of tobacco, trees gave out a short-tempered shadow, caressing the ground with a cooling touch. A tint of gold lingered on swaying outlines of leaves and outgrown grass, in pursuit of touching the darkening sky.  
Trevor and Michael stopped the rapidly rusting van on an old road in a forgotten valley. It was framed by Linder trees, ancient and mighty in size with sun-bleached fences securing them from stepping onto the road. Michael let his back thump lightly onto a thin wall of rust and chipped paint and exhaled mouthful of smoke, delicate lips parted just enough to let it slip out. Savouring his second cigarette in a row, he bathed in what was left of the afternoon heat with his head thrown back and eyes closed.

Trevor was busy preparing dinner. Of the two, he proved to be the better cook, his experience including mac’n’cheese, and he decided to make the best of his new housewife status. Scratching his head, he oscillated between anger and confusion when he dug in their insulated picnic basket that served as a makeshift fridge. Lately, his anger was roaring with might he had never experienced before. The beast was back and showed its displease with five years worth of prison. It usually stepped in and covered his mind with a thick haze when he was confused, bored or tired, and that evening, he felt it bubbling with increasing intensity. Michael and he had argued all day long whether they wanted steaks or soup for dinner. Trevor had frickin’ baked potatoes ready and wrapped in tin foil, he had even marinated those fucking fine steaks carefully and Michael just swept his idea of the imaginary table by a fucking soup. Screw this shit, he wants the meat spoiled, so be it. Trevor stomped out of the vehicle to throw a small camping pot full of vegetables on the ground, spilling some to the hundred years worth of bright white dust. Pouting his lips stubbornly, he fetched a small shovel from the van in three brisk steps and turned back to dig a shallow hole. The heat was penetrating him through every pore and in just a moment, his body was covered in a glittering layer of sweat. That was just perfect, wasn’t it? Later tonight, he would smell like a skunk in heat. A hungry skunk in heat because Michael simply had to buy ingredients that had to be cooked the same day that would comprise a simple vegetable broth only. Stupid Michael. He knew shit about cooking but could not miss a chance to take charge of the situation and have it his way. For a brief moment, Trevor wondered why he was even allowed to sleep next to that muscular control freak crowned with a massive ego. Attempting a small shrug of shoulders, he pondered the thought away - he would be forbidden to sleep in if he asked about it.  
A stack of finely chopped wood leered back at him from the hole in a silent plea not to do what he was about to do. A corner of Trevor’s lips shot upward with a spark of familiar mischief in his darkened eyes. Lines and cuts in wood came alive, rearranging with just one thought and danced slightly to form a bunch of familiar faces. He could see them scared to death, mouths gaping, crying, asking him to stop. Not missing a blink, not breaking the scene, he fished a box of matches out of his pocket and relished the feeling of dry wood on his fingertips before carefully grasping one of the matches and tugged it out. A silent strike of it, whispering over a matchbox corner, and it was lit. Oh yes, let there be light, motherfuckers. The wood cracked in pain and sizzled under his fascinated gaze, letting out first shy puffs of milky white smoke. Trevor clapped his hands and let the satisfaction from setting his foster parents and an army psychologist on fire relieve him of lingering anger. His mood was stained by the promise of vegetable soup only, and right now he decided to let it go and focused fully on setting up the pot over the fireplace. He collapsed down on crossed legs with a small huff and began filling it with water from a crumpled plastic bottle, threw in herbs, salt and all kinds of vegetables he fished out of their fridge. Once he was done and the water babbled from the first signs of a boil, he could not help but look up and search for a sight of Michael.

It wasn’t hard to find him. He stood in the evening light, with nothing on but his stained tank top, washed-out jeans secured by a black belt and a pair of black canvas sneakers, his upper back and one of his feet supporting him on the side of their mobile home, eyes fixed to the distance. Trevor could not help but gulp in awe as his eyes travelled down Michael’s body. He either lost a bit of weight or simply turned himself to show his better angle because his muscles were toned and sparkled in the evening glow thanks to a thousand of tiny sweat drops with every lazy pull out of a cigarette. His silver weaved dark hair grew slightly longer since he first saw him, dishevelled to perfection with a stray strand of hair or two, almost touching his eyebrows in a delicate arch. Trevor gasped for air as his sight brushed Michael’s long eyelashes, framing his perfect eyes. Just as he looked upon them, Michael’s lips parted again and let out a sigh of relief along with a cloud of smoke. Right after, a tip of his tongue darted out to moisturize his lips, delicately sliding from one corner to the other. A cigarette landed on what his tongue brushed before and Michael’s lips locked tightly around it. Despite the warm evening, Trevor trembled as he was watching his companion taking the smoke in. His insides decided to break free from their assigned positions and danced to a crazy pace of his racing heart. His throat dried and muscles froze still. Panic washed over him with this new, unknown feeling. Trevor knew how arousal felt but this was definitely something new and imposing, taking more control over him then he would have liked. He craved it as much as he dreaded it, taking in every inch of gold-painted skin. Short in breath and on a verge of what felt like a panic attack, he continued checking Michael’s body out while he still could.  
Strong arms were a well-known sight for his eyes, yet he drank them in with a strange hunger he could not quite name. What he was not prepared for was a trail of dark hair on broad chest, which led his eyes to delicate buds of Michael’s nipples, stretching his sweat-drenched tank top with obscene cheekiness. Trevor closed his eyes shut and pressed both hands against his crotch with a crushing strength in hope it would shun the hardness away, but the pain only made it worse. On the black background of his closed eyes, Michael’s chest was projected in exploding vivid colours, naked and welcoming, vibrating, pulling him in. “Please, please, please, give me a break already” Trevor murmured under his breath, eyes glued on his feet. “God damn it”

“Are you talking to me?” 

Great. Perfect. Just what he fucking needed. Michael’s attention and a stubborn hard-on.  
Before he drew hot air into his lungs to gather for an answer, he pressed his palms down too hard and his voice failed him, skipping at least two octaves up. “It’s nothing, Mike. I…” Shit, he must have crushed his balls for real. “I was talking to myself, that’s all” Trevor winced as slightly as not to be uncovered and bit his lip, battling an urge to throw his head back. Michael shifted in his position, one shoulder touching the van, legs crossed in a casual posture, something distinctly resembling smile playing on his lips. “Hey Trev” Oh god, what now? “Uh-huh? What is it, Michael?” Michael could not resist a mischievous grin growing on his lips anymore, letting it show completely.   
“Shift a little, I think you landed on your balls”

************************

Michael sat as comfortably as the rapidly cooling ground allowed him to. By the time he was handed a bowl of steaming soup, the sun was long gone and was replaced by a dark blue blanket with shotgun holes in it, covering everything in darkness. Crickets had a blast in surrounding fields of unkempt grass, accompanied by a soft crackling of dying fire, offering home-like comfort and security from shadows creeping in the dark.  
Trevor was clearly off this evening, Michael thought, sipping the soup right from the bowl with loud slurps. Ever since he caught him gazing his way, he was as pale as a ghost and equally startled apparently. Shifting and fidgeting, Trevor tried his best to avoid his sight. Michael contemplated his current mood. Was he willing to listen to this poor thing, or was his urge not to give a flying fuck on the stronger side tonight? Trevor squeezed his knees to his chest and shivered, tying them with his arms and turning almost full back on Michael. He frowned and put the empty bowl aside.  
“Trevor, face me.” a plain, cold command slipped his lips easily. The other man turned his head and observed his features cautiously. “The soup was good.” “Uh-huh” Oh man, he sucked in this. He has never needed sympathy to get what he wanted, so why would it be different now? He cleared his throat and reclined on his stretched arms. “What’s wrong?” Trevor’s eyes filled with dread. His lips trembled and words were clearly on tip of his tongue, but he just could not get them out of there. “Come on, tell me.” Silence. Michael was getting impatient. “Spill it, dumbfuck. NOW!” Trevor turned to face him upon the barked command, head rested on top of his folded knees and put on his puppy eyes look. Aha, so it was something embarrassing. Michael could not help but smirk. Excellent. He read him like a book and it only took a couple of weeks to achieve. 

“Something scary is happening to me when I..” T gulped and curled a bit more to cover his blushing red face, muffling the rest of the sentence “when I look at you”.

Oh no. Oh shit. What was this? Could this forty-year-old preschooler possibly be...? Sudden realisation crashed upon Michael like an ice-cold shower. He shot up, face more of a mask with eyes unnaturally wide, and took a slow step forward, clenching his fists. “What EXACTLY is happening to you when you look at me, Phillips?” No. Not falling in love bullshit on his watch.  
The place went completely silent and the remaining light from the fire made all in its wake flicker with a warm red light in a wind that was picking up. Somewhere far beyond the horizon, a thunder rumbled. Michael’s features swayed with a mixture of navy blue and deep orange as he approached Trevor in a way tiger does before it leaps and kills. Trevor silently whimpered and put his hand up in defence.  
“I get this nervous feeling in my stomach and I can’t take my eyes off you, please don’t hit me!” “Pveese don’t hit me!” Michael mimicked in high pitched voice, flashing his teeth in disgust and hit Trevor with his fist. Upon impact, T inclined his head to cover it with his folded arms instinctively and accepted the hit with a soft huff. “Pveese don’t hit me!” another blow. A rumble in the distance. A smack of fresh wind. “Pveese don’t hit me!”

*****************************

Trevor’s body shivered with cold and soreness. He was resting curled up against the back door of the van among food cans, as far from Michael’s reach as he could get. The vehicle was rocking and weeping in a vicious storm that came rushing, interrupting his beating for some time. Trevor was hoping for it to be put off completely, but Michael’s jaw clenched in an unforgiving way. He checked his captor’s position again. Michael sat upright, loosely resting his back against the wall, legs apart, hands on his side. He was idly watching chains of rain from the open door of the van, yet god only knew what ran through his head. Occasionally, his features were lightened up by a flash of light from outside, only to show how limp and worn out he was. Trevor’s heart twisted and hurt upon that sight. He frantically tried to come up with something that would cheer him up, except more beating.  
He put a couple of clues together and listening to the howling wind outside, he came up with a plan. Michael was usually cranky when he was hungry - that much he could tell by what he observed so far. His mood also dropped significantly when he could not sleep properly. Well, he could not help him sleep, could he? Food was it then.   
Trevor collected all his courage and put everything in a seemingly confident question “Michael?”  
He did not expect any answer and even if there was any, a deafening thunder covered it up completely. “I got something for you!” he tried his best to sound enthusiastic.  
“I said fuck off.” As grumpy as expected. Trevor cautiously shifted and on all four, he came closer to Michael who growled in warning. Trashing his hand inside their improvised fridge that rested nearby, it took him a short while to grasp exactly what he intended to. “Here, take it, please” Trevor outstretched his hand, holding onto an ice cream cone in blue reflective wrapping. Michael turned his head to see what he shoved right into his face and could not contain a mild shock. He hesitated for a picosecond and then his sweet tooth took advantage of him. He snitched the ice cream from the offering hand and ripped the wrapping with his teeth. Trevor smiled lightly and felt a strange warmth enveloping him. This felt similar to feeding his cats for the first time. A strange, fuzzy feeling of giving something a second chance. Really, Michael was just a big mean cat with a short temper. 

Michael opened the blue wrapping in a strange kind of anticipation. The smell of vanilla filled the air and he could not wait to dip his lips into the creamy delight and crunch on the sweet waffle. He completely forgot Trevor was sitting close on folded knees, hands in his lap, adoring expression on his face, watching him closely. When was the last time he had ice cream? A couple of year back, huh? It melted on tip of his tongue perfectly, leaving a soothing trace of vanilla in its wake all the way down his throat. Happily wrapping his tongue around the girth of it, he missed a few drops that splashed on his chest and quickly run down below his tank top.

Trevor could not move anymore, his entire being revolving around the swift tongue. A dribble of rain and roar of thunder subsided completely to the beating of his own heart. The feeling was there again, swallowing him whole and trashing with his mind. Right before his eyes, the picture of Michael lost solid outline and swayed, clothes dissolving in thin air, imagination filling its gaps in. Oh god, why did he have to be so perfect? Trevor bit his lip and clenched fists to fight a desperate need to touch slightest patch of skin Michael would offer.   
“Oh crap” a sudden Michael’s mumble made him jolt, searching for a reason he had to swear and saw three tiny drops of melt ice cream hitting his chest. Every single one of them stirred water surface of Trevor’s self-control, running down Michael’s chest mischievously, taking cover under his tank top. A wild roar from deep within made Trevor lean forward and crawl slowly on all four, Michael being his prey. He did not have to obey him. He could take what he wanted. Right then and there. What would Michael do against it? Beat him? Leave him there? Whatever happens, it won’t matter. He craved Michael and nothing could hold him back.

Michael took off his tank top and examined the white trail under it. Oh man, it stuck his chest hair together in a shaky line all the way down to his belly. Wasn’t that fucking perfect? With the corner of his eye, he saw a slight movement and darted his sight towards Trevor, who’s head and chest were now silently hovering above his own. “What are you doing, Trevor?” No answer, just a pair of eyes, dark with lust, meeting with his own. Michael gulped. Never breaking the eye contact, Trevor dipped his head downward, breathing hot puffs of air right onto Michael’s bare skin, looking for sugary trails. How long has it been since someone looked him like that? Michael was hesitating. He shouldn’t have let him so close. Yet, there was a wake of long lost feeling coming back to him. Warm breath on his skin echoed through his entire being and sent vibrations to all the right places. All of this was crazy. His head spun. His heart hit his chest from inside. A piercing fear of letting go of control mixed with anticipation. He raised his hand to shove Trevor away and then it happened - Trevor’s eyes closed and he crashed his tongue onto Michael’s body, guiding it up to his chest in a slow, hungry lick. Michael gasped for air. His hand landed on Trevor’s shoulder and squeezed it as a landslide of arousal took him by surprise, arching his back. Twitching between his thighs nodded in approval.

Trevor shifted carefully to rest himself on Michael’s lap. He was burning to get closer to him and run both hands over his back and pulling him closer to meet his tongue perfectly. A salty sensation on his tongue gradually gave in to tobacco, and with each touch, he craved more. Now that he moved his way up from Michael’s belly, he was presented by what he wanted to see ever since he acknowledged it - a bud of Michael’s nipple, hard and ready on swaying breasts. Trevor carefully flicked one with the tip of his tongue and sucked it in, closing his full lips on it. Michael, who was silent up to now, moaned in pleasure. A wild twitch and knock on his butt was a good sign. Twisting his arms around him fully, he sucked with all he had to hear the sweat cry of pleasure again, only breaking the embrace to take a breath for which he sat upright and suddenly, his face was levelled with Michael’s. He was beautiful, arousal dripping from his every pore, eyelids half-covering wild waters of his eyes, mouth slightly open, breathing deeply. He even thought to see a blush in Michael’s face once lightning brightened it for a mere second, but what he could see in the dark was enough to build courage for what he wanted the most. 

Michael lost himself in the sensation and grieved it when Trevor rose his head and locked his puppy eyes with his once again. Has he always been this beautiful? Michael squeezed all muscles in him to get his arm to work and cupped Trevor’s flushed cheek in his hand, savouring a touch of hot skin on his fingertips. He has never brushed his thumb over someone’s lips before, not as gently as now. He was mistaken in his expectation of chapped skin and thin ribbons of insensitive meat. Instead, Trevor’s lips were plump and moist, trembling from arousal his touch gave and if he wasn’t completely sure there was no one else there, he would have thought it was a girl on his lap. Just brushing over his lips was not enough anymore. Michael needed something stronger. Suddenly, he jerked forward, grasped Trevor’s head from both sides with his hands and kissed him.

Trevor’s mind shattered like a broken mirror struck by a bullet. Every vibration, every colour dancing around before was gone and he was left still in a vast dark space with nothing but a touch of hot lips. His eyes rolled and closed in delight. The time has almost stopped, every second a century. Raindrops hanged in the air, glittering with reflections of white and blue, milky lightening spilt over the dark sky at a relaxed pace and the only sound was the drum of Trevor’s heart. He was not a single being anymore. Trough their joined lips, he accepted the essence of Michael and let it blur together with his into one brilliantly smudged watercolour.  
Only a moment later, Michael drew back to take a deep breath and time came on crushing on Trevor once again. He missed the sensation already, and this time, it was he who brushed fingers through the hair on the back of Michael’s head and gently pushed it forward to savour on his lips. Kissing him seemed as natural as breathing now and excited him to limits he never knew before - Michael’s hot hands caressing and exploring what was under his shirt were driving him crazy. It only took a short while for Michael to slide them all the way down and slip both hands into his pants, squeezing his ass. Trevor broke their kiss to moan into Michael’s mouth and was rewarded with a satisfied chuckle.

Michael’s strength came back the moment he heard Trevor’s pleasure show. With a predator-like grin, he shot up and threw Trevor who straddled him up to now on the ground, climbing on top of him to steal another hungry kiss. Trevor accepted it without hesitation, parting his lips in a silent invitation Michael was too excited to decline. 

Trevor let out another muffled moan when Michael’s tongue shot into his mouth. A slight hint of vanilla splattered over a ripe dried tobacco leaf was the closest of all to Michael’s taste. Trevor has never enjoyed either of those, but now he gladly accepted it and sucked it in.

Michael ran one of his hands down Trevor’s body, never breaking the sloppy kiss, never missing a chance to brush his tongue over Trevor’s to make him moan. His fingers left goosebumps in their wake, tracing a thickening patch of dark hair until they were stopped by a buckle on Trevor’s pants. Too bad, there’s no way he would back down now he thought as he gently pressed on hot skin and his hand slipped in. Corners of his mouth shot up as he was welcomed by a stiff treat. “Oh god, Michael, don’t…” Trevor cried and thrust up when Michael wrapped his fingers around it, giving it a few firm strokes. “No, please, don’t do it, Mikey, I’m…” It was too late. Trevor let out a wild, high-pitched cry and spasmed in pleasure, collapsing on the floor. What? Has he really…? Michael retrieved his hand from Trevor’s pants and judging by how sticky his fingers were, a kiss and a touch were enough for poor Trev to cum. Michael could not help but stare at glossed edges of his hand for a second completely dumbfounded. A silent sob interrupted his contemplation and led his sight on the other man, who covered his eyes and shaked with a wild strike of cry.

A terribly outpitched “’m sorry” was all Trevor could squeeze out of his constricted chest before he started crying uncontrollably. Why the fuck did he have to cum so soon? He needed so much more, he wanted this to last forever and there he was, cumming like a pathetic virgin teen. He felt as embarrassed as he did when his mother caught him wearing her high heels, maybe more, who the fuck cares. He could not help but cover his face in palms of his hands and let all those feelings out with his tears. Sperm in his underwear did not help him to relax at all as it ran cold rapidly and pulled him to unpleasant reality like a damn block of concrete around his waist.

“Shh… it’s ok, T.”

He could have forgotten about Michael who watched him silently, sitting beside him. He would rather make him go right then and not witness his fit, but he felt very much like the cold rain outside, falling deeper into a hostile dark place without any chance to come back. He trembled, drowning in feelings he was too familiar with. A sudden but gentle stroke of a smooth hand in his hair and a deep vibration of his voice relieved him, soothed the pain and shun his shame back into the void until it seemed small and unimportant and could not hurt him anymore. It could have been hours, but Trevor did not want him to stop, resting his hands comfortably by his sides. “It’s fine T. It’s ok” When did Michael become so tender with him? Was it really the same man who beat the shit out of him not so long ago? What did he do to earn his touch? Could that be...love? Trevor’s heart skipped a beat. He never understood the concept - love was everywhere, stretched like a net all over the world, but just out of his reach when he tried to grasp it, abstract and distant. It was not like he missed it - he never knew it after all. It was just painfully apparent on dark, cold nights when he used to lay on his bed, limbs entangled with yet another girl without a name, that love was like a puzzle piece that was never included in the box his being was shipped in. But if love was the thrill every light touch Michael’s hand offered, the mesmerising tobacco taste of his lips and a firm grasp of his hug, he could have happily lived with it and accepted every single bit of it as it was.

While he was thinking about it, all of him called for a hot embrace of Michael’s arms and warmth of his breath on his lips. Slowly, cautiously he sat up, tangling his fingers with Michael’s, gently pulling him into a hug, his embarrassment forgotten. Michael’s hand brushed against his side to settle on the small of his back, resting there as if it was made for it. Trevor let his head gently lay on Michael’s shoulder, lips mere millimetres away from sensitive skin, taking his smell in when a painful idea pierced his mind. Michael had no relief and must have been hard still. If his assumptions were right and his buddy was as aroused as he was before, of course. Trevor exhaled and tried what reaction his tongue on Michael’s neck might awake. A light shiver and a hum. Interesting. Let’s do it again. Trevor brushed the tip of his tongue from the base of his neck right up to his earlobe, gently pressing his lips onto it. Michael’s reaction sparked selfish joy because he choked a moan and squeezed him tighter, pulling him onto his racing heart. That gave Trevor one free hand to use on examining Michael’s body. Mimicking the movement that was used on him not too long ago, he slid his fingers along rising and falling muscles and shyly landed on Michael’s crotch. A twitch of the bulge upon his touch made him melt a little. So he DID enjoy it, Michael was aroused as much as he was, he thought with a small smile spreading his lips. What could he do to make him feel better? A wild idea suddenly vibed through him. Yeah, that he could try.

Michael sat still, holding onto Trevor, fighting with himself to just let it happen without him controlling it. He carefully counted his breaths and did his best to let arousal kick in. A wet patch on his neck and Trevor nuzzling his ear did nothing to help him relax, and his hard-on raged so much it hurt. He hasn’t had an erection in ages, and his penis was as stubborn as he was, not wanting to just let it go. When Trevor’s hand landed on it and cupped it, he could not help but gasp for air. Oh god, he missed sex so much. His head fell back and thumped on the tin wall, his mouth flying open to let his moan out. He needed it and needed it soon. As if he read his mind, Trevor’s head slipped from his shoulder and his lips pressed gentle kisses on his skin, moving down in painfully slow pace. Michael hoped for more than a blowjob, but could not bring himself to move or object, and he didn’t want Trevor to stop kissing him at no cost. He slid his fingers into Trevor’s hair once again in silent encouragement. Just a bit lower, just like that. He felt Trevor’s shaking hands undoing his pants, fingers pulling on underwear and finally, finally, his arousal met with the cold night’s air. Michael exhaled in a satisfied hum and rested his back to gain more comfort, closed his eyes, awaiting a touch, but after a moment of silence, he opened them again. Immediately, he spotted a pair of sad eyes looking up to him.  
“What’s wrong, T?” the gaze shifted and he heard a silent, embarrassed voice “I don’t know what to do now” Michael could hardly believe his ears. “Wait a moment, you have never had your cock sucked before?” Trevor averted his eyes. “Of course I had it sucked, but this is different…” He hesitated for a moment but spilt out it eventually “I don’t want to hurt you. I mean,” he added, blushing “what if I bite it off or something”. From somewhere within, a warm laugh bubbled out and resonated in Michael’s chest. This idiot was a purely charming bundle of confusion, wasn’t he?  
“Don’t worry, T, I’ll tell you what to do” he said and felt relieved as that would give him the control he wanted, which was just perfect. Trevor hummed and landed a small kiss near his belly button to seal the deal.  
“Hold it with your hand first” a warm hand pressed onto the shaft and fingers curled around it, giving him an unintentional stroke that sent shivers down his spine. “Mmm, just like that” he purred and relished in the feeling. “Lick the tip now” he commanded and braced for a slick tongue to touch the most sensitive part of his body. Trevor obeyed almost immediately, sticking his tongue out, touching it gently with flickering tip. Michael bit his lip. “That’s it, lick it all over” a hot tongue circled the head of his penis with hungry enthusiasm. He slid his hand to rest on the back of Trevor’s head and monitored its movement in between his choked moans and groans. He felt his excitement building up under his belly and decided to go for the grand finale. “Stick your tongue out and open wide baby” he heard his words slip out as he exhaled. The tongue retrieved and the only thing left then was a hot touch of Trevor’s breath on the tip. Michael pushed Trevor’s head in the right direction and cried out in pleasure when soft lips locked around his girth, sliding down on it until they were stopped by Trevor’s hand. “Put that hand on my balls now” A ticklish feeling that sprung in him upon the touch on delicate skin made him shiver. Grasping a handful of Trevor’s hair, he pushed his head upwards slowly and then slammed it harshly against his shaft. Trevor choked, nose stuck in a thick patch of hair growing around the base, but didn’t flinch or protest. “Oh god,” Michael’s body floated in a kind of high he was stripped off during years of his unintentional chastity, springing even higher with each stroke of Trevor’s mouth. His hand worked at an increasing speed, but he could no longer control it. He knew he was almost there. Sex had always felt like watching a sunrise over the ocean. Waves of pleasure washing dark blue horizon, building up tension, making the sky bleed colour to the point it gives up and the white tip of the sun sends bolts of light to all directions. But at the moment, everything was twice as intense as he vaguely remembered from his nights with Amanda. The ocean was roaring within him, the sky was full of rushing clouds and he could not wait for the sun to break in. “Ugh, T!” he cried out with one last stroke and lost it, pleasure exploding and taking over him as a perfect ray of light, shooting him up to the verge of space while he was spilling five years worth of cum right down Trevor’s welcoming throat. “Oh my god!”

What happened next was covered in a pale haze. All he knew was he laid on his back and a pair of hands covered him with a blanket and left for an awfully long while in which he was falling in and out of consciousness, still floating a touch away from the milky way. When they finally came back and wrapped around him, he fell into a deep sleep, fully satisfied and content for the first time in forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading - I hope you like it as much as I did as I had this scene stuck in my head forever.  
Next update might take a while, but I am not abandoning this story until it's done.  
Thank you all for kudos and comments, I always welcome them with open arms :)


	5. The calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No spoilers ;) if you want to, you can read the summary in the footnotes.  
What you need to know is this chapter has no explicit scenes of violence or sex (both implicated though), so it's safe to read :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not abandoning this story and I really am sorry I could not update sooner. I won't promise regular updates either - once it gets finished, it gets finished.  
A big shout out to those who left a comment, kudos or bookmarked - I love you! :)  
A special thanks to Verbo for their feedback and support - it means a lot!

Trevor was vaguely aware they were travelling south. He was watching the landscape that enveloped them, swaying and sizzling in the heat of August afternoon. Instead of a solid wall of pines and spruces piercing light blue sky, the landscape was filled with a golden sea of grain crops and seldom oaks and apple trees, hunching shily against a flat, salmon pink horizon. The hot air picked on his every pore and made it bleed sticky sweat, leaving an intensive craving for a cold beer in its wake. Smacking his lips in search of humidity, Trevor shifted in his seat and turned his head to watch Michael in an attempt to get the idea of drinking out of his head. Michael paid him no attention, eyes fixed on the road, rumbling responses into his new mobile phone. Trevor’s fingers drummed nervously on his knees as he admired how sharp and refined Michael’s jaw looked with the dark, thick beard on it. Golden light lit bare patches of his freckled skin, flickering with every smooth move of Michael’s lips and left Trevor longing for a kiss. A long, sloppy kiss, with his tongue tasting Michael, letting his deep hums vibrate through him. His hot hands running down his back, cupping his butt, squeezing... Nah, that wasn’t helping at all. He was now sporting a semi which only added to his growing discomfort. He could have played Snake on the phone if Michael didn’t use it. Or if he bought him a phone too. Damn that handsome bastard.  
Trevor shifted once again and started playing with gloves compartment opening to chase the boredom away, lips pouting, eyebrows frowning. Clicking, clacking and a rustle of various contents of the compartment in an absent-minded manner blunted all his feelings so he nearly jumped when Michael’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“Stop it, will you?” Michael growled squeezing him with the intention of leaving marks. Trevor blinked and put on a confused puppy face. That worked Michael as a yo-yo every damn time - or so he thought. At the moment, there was nothing soft about the glare of Michael’s eyes.

“Stop what?” his voice rising in an innocent way. As innocent as his raspy tenor could get anyway - if coyotes could talk and were especially cunning, they would sound exactly like him.

“Whatever you are doing to MY car” Michael turned his head to watch the road again, entirely unimpressed. “You’ll break it.”

“That’s not my fault!” Trevor exclaimed, brushing Michael’s hand away from his shoulder. He has drawn his knees to his chin and hugged them, curling in his seat. “I’m bored.” He let those words slip his lips in a spoiled toddler tone, turning his eyes to a smudge on the windshield and pouted. “This piece of shit is done for anyway, me breaking the door would not make any change…”

An annoyed growl was all Michael was capable of producing as an answer. Placing his hand on the steering wheel with a slap, he frowned and cleared his throat. 

“Am I interrupting a lover’s quarrel there, M?” an annoyed, high-pitched voice asked, filling the air. “You know, I can call you later. When I need a favour for a change, huh?” with an emphasis on “I” Michael didn’t like at all. Perfect. Now wasn’t the day just fucking great?  
“I’m sorry Lest,” Michael tried his best to sound sweet and apologetic and hit Trevor’s shoulder when he heard him snickering. Trevor’s thumb and index finger curled tightly into a ring, another finger piercing it in an overdramatic representation of getting up someone’s ass, grimacing. Michael batted Trevor’s hands away from his face, which made the latter hit his knuckles on a side window and made him hiss.

“So you were talking about that job in Springfield, right?”

“That’s right. I have monitored the place for quite some time. It is small enough for you to pull the job yourself - although I would advise getting at least two others as your crew”

“A crew, huh?” Corner of Michael’s mouth darted up with a chuckle that reeked of sarcasm. “Lest, all my friends are either locked up or dead. I am in a greater chance of getting crabs here than assembling a trustworthy crew”

The voice on the other side of the line let fell silent, letting the air fill with an engine hum for a brief moment. “What about that guy you were oh so wise to keep as your souvenir?” 

Trevor shot a wide-eyed glare towards the phone, straightening in his seat, ready to throw it out of the window if he had to. Michael smirked and dismissed the idea he saw in Trevor’s eyes with a lazy wave. “I don’t think the idiot would make it out alive.”

Now that was worse. Trevor actually felt the pain of betrayal pierce his heart and let his mouth gape a little as his eyebrows frowned in disbelief. Part of him wanted to let it go - he had no appetite for beating right now - but the bigger, wilder part within howled and bubbled with wild anger, filling him up as quickly as a flood. “Oh you didn’t call me an idiot when I blew you last night, did you?” he spat out words that tasted like poison on his tongue, mocking as much as he could. “The idiot wouldn’t make it my ass! I’m as good as you are - no, I’m better, cause I don’t have to wear high heels to feel man enough!”

Tips of Michael’s ears turned bright red, probably drawing all colour away from his knuckles, squeezing the steering wheel hard. All he could hear over the thumping of his heart was mischievous laughter coming from the speaker of the phone.  
“Well, I think your little pet is just fine - maybe he could do a lap dance for our good old security boys to spice up the action!” Oh, God. That teasing was sure to stick with Lester for a long time. 

“Fine. Look, Lest,” Michael cleared his throat and drawn in a deep breath to steady himself and get in charge of the situation again. “Let’s go through it all again, alright?”

********************

It was already dark when the van creaked and stopped with relief, letting out a huff of hot air. The parking lot was dimly lit by a flickering, worn out neon sign, bathing the place in a pink haze. Michael got out of the car first, stretching until he heard a crack in his back and shot his hands to the lower of his back instinctively. Damn, he was getting old, he thought as he yawned. Another motel, another night. Whatever it was, it sure beat sleeping on a hard van floor and he was ready for the change. He slammed the van door shut, opened the back and fished a handful of money out of there. Brad wasn’t exactly right when he said it was a jackpot back in Creedance. They got good money out of it, yeah, but most of it went to either savings or to Amanda and their children’s’ alimony, some amount was sent to Brad’s girlfriend trough Lester’s accounts and the rest was spent on fuel and food in the past six months. Michael patted his denim jacket and jeans in search of cigarettes reluctantly. He could have sworn they were more expensive with every pack he bought.   
“Looking for something?” his thought were interrupted by an outstretched arm, shoving a crumbled pack of cigarettes right into his face. He lifted his gaze sideways and locked eyes with Trevor, who did his best to smile in a friendly manner and took out one slim sticks out for him. Michael bit back a small smile that was developing on his face and put his lips around a cigarette, breaking the eye contact for a moment, only to be tapping his pockets again in search of a lighter. A soft chuckle made him look at Trevor again, eyebrows shot up in a silent question.  
“Here, let me help” was the last thing he heard before a familiar clack of a lighter broke the void of the parking lot and lit their faces with a familiar streak of bright ember. Once again, he looked into Trevor’s dark eyes as his cigarette was being lit and could not help but feel his heart skip a beat. It was a mere second, but there was a flash of something behind amber eyes - something wild and beautiful, drawing Michael closer, making his blood rush. He stood there, fascinated, wide-eyed, drinking in the sight Trevor offered, until the latter put up a puzzled expression and let his head fall to the side a bit.  
“Uh, M?” Trevor gestured towards his hand “Your cig?”   
“Oh shit” Michael whispered a swear and flicked the ash off what was left of his treat, eyes fixed to the ground. “Give me another one, would you?” he rumbled nervously. What the hell was wrong with him and this teenage crush bullshit? Was it the absence of other people that made Trevor look so appealing? Yeah, it was the isolation. For sure. Isolation and pent-up sexual tension. Trevor was just an outlet. Nothing more. Once he finds a good, desperate stripper, everything will be alright. Trevor will be just another guy he used to know.  
His breath caught in his throat when he felt a light touch of hot, thick fingers grabbing the rest of his cigarette, jerking him out of his thoughts. His eyes shot up to see Trevor lock his lips around the filter, caressing exact same spots his lips touched with a smug expression, never breaking the eye contact. Ok, they were definitely sharing room - there was no way for Michael to let him get away with that, even if it meant to momentarily give up his denial. A grin blooming on his face was a promise he didn’t want to break.

***************  
The reception was relatively clean, lit by an unfriendly flickering tube light. Washed out pink walls weighted with memories of better days covered their shame in patriotic posters, southern flags and awful pictures. Behind the reception desk sat a small, balding chubby man, dressed in a stained mustard-coloured turtleneck and brown pants, his shabby name tag reading “Hi, how can TRAN help you?”. If Trevor wasn’t sure it’s not possible, he could have sworn the man was an obscure human-shaped egg.

“Hello, uh…” Michael squinted his eyes to read the name tag correctly, “Tran. Do you have any free rooms?”  
The small man looked him up and down with a wry expression, lips pursued, before he squeaked in a high-pitched voice “No rooms for fags” and turned away from Michael’s surprised gaze.  
Trevor shuffled his feet and couldn’t help but chuckle on Michael’s expression. He could tell Mike was angry already, his temper flaring dangerously in his face. Quickly, he decided to act before Michael would drop a conversational equivalent of an atomic bomb and they were chased out of town by a police patrol, a mob of homophobic inbreds or both combined.

“Excuse me, but we are cousins!” he put up the widest fake smile he could and tapped the greasy wooden board of the reception with his fingers. “We came ‘ere for his sister’s wedding!” He winked at Michael, who was shaking his head in visible disapproval for a moment, but sported a fake smile when Tran turned to scan him with suspicious beady eyes. 

“Oh, really? What’s her name? I know most people here in Springfield” 

Trevor didn’t even skip a beat. “Her name’s Betty” One of Tran’s thick eyebrows lifted a little. Trevor’s eyes darted to a small watercolour on the wall beside smaller man’s head and breathed out the rest of the lie “Betty O’Hare”.

Michael gulped but did his best to keep perfectly still and unaffected by the conversation. He was ready to crack the small, greasy skull with help of the wooden board and run because it was obviously a lie and as dense as the small man looked, he could not be as stupid as to believe what Trevor blurted out. It was too silent for too long, the moment of tension stretching to eternity. The tube light flicked. The silence was sliced by a passing truck. Michael felt a drop of sweat slide down his back. Why did it all take so damn long? Just as he was about to flip out of the reception Tran let out a laugh and shook Trevor’s hand in a friendly manner, plucking it from the grease of the board.

“Oh my and I thought Betty has moved out for good! Is she coming back? Haven’t seen her for ages! Here, lads, the first night’s on me!” Tran handed them a batted key with a greasy wooden key tag with number “8” on it. “That’s the best room we have!” Tran waved and shout after them as they retreated from the reception before things got seriously out of hand.   
“Thank you, punk!” Trevor mimed shooting Tran with his finger, doing his best to impersonate Ernst Clintwood. Tran’s laughter echoed through the empty corridor and was shut off completely when they found their room.

*********************  
“Ok, first of all - we got away with it easily now, but the fucker might come snooping around any time. We need to back that story up.”

Michael paced back and forth between a large wooden window framed with light green floral drapes and the door, raising a puff of dust with every stomp of his foot. Trevor sat on his bed, fingers squeezing on a smooth duvet, relishing in the feeling, and watched Michael’s nervous fit. He has seen him talking to himself a couple of times, mostly when he was nervous or indecisive. That night, Michael was probably both. Trevor could not help but feel happy and proud. They got away with his little lie and that meant they had a perfect headquarters for their actual plan. The room had two king-sized beds that were surprisingly clean, hot water, soap and fluffy towels in the spacious bathroom. The receptionist was not kidding when he said it was their best suite. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Michael slapped Trevor’s cheek and growled.

“Well, so you basically said we are screwed” was Trevor’s best bet along with an innocent, puppy smile that hoped to soothe Michael into not beating him.

“Yes, we are if you do not listen to me” Michael glared his way and folded his arms in an intimidating pose, “I said you’ll be the girl”

Trevor’s eyes gleamed for a second, determined to tease Michael a little “Whatever sails your boat, sugar” he said grinning, crossing his legs flirtatiously and patting the mattress sporting a sharky grin. “Tired of your heels yet?”

“Haha, that’s funny, fruitcake - I was talking about the job.”

“Why do we need a girl?” Trevor’s smug smile forgotten to give way to his utter curiousness and confusion. He probably should have listened after all.

“Because we are going to check the place first.” Michael pierced him with a strict sight, his eyes scolding him for asking about something so obvious. “You are my girlfriend, determined to buy a wedding ring” Trevor muffled his snickering with a hand and bit his lip to stop himself. This all was just too hilarious and Michael was one big bubble of seriousness and discipline, waiting for him to burst it.

“Let’s say I am ready to marry you. Go on, darlin’” Trevor nodded, with a playful smile. Michael would beat his ass, he was sure, but the teasing was worth it.

Michael let out a nervous sigh and licked his lips before he continued, annoyed about yet another idiot in his proximity. He called this upon himself, hasn’t he? Or was a magoo magnet stuck in his ass? He wasn’t sure anymore.  
“You pretend to search for something very specific and make them all after you. I am going to stand by, checking for cameras and security. We buy something small and get out of there. Understood?”

“Ssssssir, yes, ssssssir!” Trevor saluted him, mocking a frowning solider. He could not hold back anymore and laugh out loud, right into Michael’s drop-dead glare. “Come on now, quit the long face and kiss your bride, big boy!” as he leapt to Michael’s arms, making the most of the moment of surprise, enveloping him in a tight hug and peppered kisses all over his grumpy, hairy face.

Michael wanted to put up a fight. He was way too tired and winded up to put up with one of Trevor’s manic episodes, and he ducked his head as much as he could, shoving Trevor away. The only effect it had was that Trevor planted kisses on his neck instead, nibbling sensitive skin there, making him shiver. He really tried hard not to think about Trevor’s eyes lit with a flame back in the parking lot, and all those kisses and cuddling was not helping him keep his cool. He had to end it at once, strictly and firmly as any leader should. “Come on now, T, this is se-----” he tried to say, but the rest of the sentence was muffled by Trevor’s tongue, darting into his mouth.

For a moment, time has stopped and Trevor relished in the tobacco taste of Michael’s tongue, taking him in with every move, every gentle brush of his fingertips on Michael’s skin awaking hunger for more. He wondered why he was blessed with Michael’s presence when his whole life was one big line of disappointment and failure. His lips trembled as he exhaled with his nose, shifting closer, letting Michael’s hands scratch on his back, pushing him deeper into the kiss. He has never been as happy as then - in the middle of nowhere, in a godforsaken motel, with Michael’s lips on his. He didn’t really pay attention when Michael lifted his shirt, he didn’t mind his hands yanking on his pants to make them drop in a puddle of denim at his feet. All he could focus on was Michael and his perfect taste. Only when he felt a pinch on one of his nipples, he moaned into Michael’s mouth and broke the kiss, panting. “Mikey…” his breath dripping with lust, not allowing him to say more than the perfect name, over and over again.  
“You like it hard, huh?” Michael looked up on him with a self-satisfactory glint in his eyes, slid down to Trevor’s nipple and bit it, never breaking the eye contact. The sudden pain shot up Trevor’s body like an electric current, making him moan out shamefully loud.

“Keep it down, will ya?” and a series of loud bangs on a paper-thin wall made them both jolt and freeze for a moment before Michael’s deep laugh filled the room. Trevor picked it up and before they knew it, they were rolling on the brown carpet, tears running down their cheeks, dust colouring the air into milky white. Trevor supported himself on his side, coughing, and watched Michael with open adoration. His cheeks were flushed from the laughter and corners of his mouth stayed up as his mouth gaped to let more air in, hands laid comfortably on his belly as the last residue of laughter shook trough his strong body and Trevor could not help but smile upon the sight. It was not the first time he saw Michael laugh, but now, it was different - more genuine somehow, fresh and true, devoid of Michael’s strict self-control. How could he walk the same ground with someone so beautiful? And why did Michael hide behind all his though act?  
“Hey T,” Michael turned his head to meet his sight and smirked, “Stop checking out my ass!” Trevor felt a pair of blue eyes burning his skin “And put on some clothes for god’s sake - you don’t want to poke someone’s eyes out, do you? Now, be a good boy and go to sleep!”.  
“Will you be the small spoon?” Trevor offered playfully.  
“Will you suck me off first?” Trevor’s cheeks flushed upon the offer that made him lick his lips. He quickly decided to push his luck further and continue the banter.  
“Did you know they call me Mr Vacuum down south?”  
One of Michael’s eyebrows shot up into a smug expression, ready to nail the punchline  
“Oh, I’ve only heard of Mr Hung-like-a-horse and that happens to be me.” Trevor could not resist any longer. “Show me!” were the last words he managed to let out before Michael literary jumped and closed his mouth with a hungry kiss.

*****************  
The town of Springfield was the essence of a dusty southern place, stereotypical in its own manner. Streets designed to be as perfect as a chessboard were framed by houses with flaking paint on the outside and battered wooden porches. Facades were decorated with an occasional flag or a 50’s style neon sign in hope to attract people into a bar or a strip club. People dressed in denim minded their own business while checking on two bearded strangers walking down the road. The thick air of the summer afternoon was filled with a smell of beer and barbeque, accompanied by distant bursts of laughter and excited screams of playing children. 

Michael felt his dirty shirt soaking up on sweat, sticking on his skin and pulling fine hair all over him. Sooner the whole thing is over the better - he felt he needed a bath. And a wax. If he could guess what animal he could have been in his most recent past life, he would bet on either a bear or a beaver. Maybe a bastard of both, depending on how far south from the border had he lived then. Well, at least Trevor never objected against the sprouting coat he was sporting for the past few months. Rather than that, he always run his fingers his fur, fascinated by ticklish spots he found on the way. That sole fact made Trevor 200% better lover than his ex-wife could ever be - in a way, the divorce was a blessing because he was spared the monthly waxing and daily tobacco intake limit. Trevor respected all his flaws and let him do whatever the hell he wanted without nagging and his occasional teasing only spiced up the whole relationship they had. If this all goes well, he thought, maybe he should marry him for real. He could almost see it in his head - walking down the petals covered aisle, a tall, slender figure in white waiting for him at the altar, turning around to reveal a bearded face covered by white vail.  
Wait, what? Michael gulped and shook upon the idea. What the fuck was that? He was straight and a tiny bit deprived, and Trevor was definitely not adorable in his unique dishevelled stray puppy way. He was not daydreaming about marrying him and he was NOT happy about the idea. Period. A quick glance on Trevor made him huff air through his nose, stuck somewhere between annoyance and admiration. His eyes were open, glittering in the light of signs, taking them all in with a strange fascination. His mouth gaped a little under his fuzzy moustache and Michael swore he got stuck with a four-year-old baby that drank a shot of mystery milk and miraculously grew up to be a middle-aged balding nutjob. At least he wasn’t tugging his shirt and didn’t demand a piggy ride on his sweat-drenched back.

“Oh, look! A drug store!” Michael was wrong about the tugging part and drawn a thick line behind his thoughts. With an enthusiastic “Let’s go there first”, he found himself being dragged into the air-conditioned mixture of chemical smells and green vinyl tiles.  
A cheerful chime of a bell above the door butchered the silence inside, echoing from dust-sprinkled shelves. A woman their age, face buried under a thick layer of make-up, pierced them with one disgusted look and proceeded to chew her bubble gum and file her fake nails, leaning on a counter. Michael put his hands into his jeans pocket and puffed his chest a bit in hope to make her attitude change, as it usually did when he showed up somewhere, but it wasn’t quite working with Trevor squealing with excitement over the make-up rack. 

Running his fingers across all the items in front of him, Trevor felt a sudden hit of nostalgia. Pitch black tubes with golden rims, all shades of red on stickers, subtle brushes and earthy smell of kajal eyeliners took him back to his bright summer afternoon trailer home. He was a small ragged boy again, dressed in oversized clothes, dark hair wild and fuzzy, clutching onto a shabby teddy bear. His tiny feet shuffled forward on a cheap vinyl floor, eyes fixed on a familiar silhouette sitting by her vanity table, fascinated by a low hum of the voice that came from the bedroom lit by the afternoon sun.  
“Trevy, is that you? Come to mama, sugar” a warm embrace filled his senses with the smell of cheap perfume and makeup, but to his little nose, that was the best part of the home before his mom got hooked up on pills. Home with old smelly floral wallpapers, dripping faucet and imposing dark figure lurking by the TV, reeking of beer and cigarettes. He squeezed himself and his teddy bear onto his mother’s lap and looked up on her, eyes wide and adoring.  
“Ma, I want to be as beautifuw as you are, will you do my make up too pweese?” he blurted out through the gap in his teeth, melting under a loving gaze.  
“Of course, cupcake, ma will make you even more beautiful!”

“For god’s sake T, if you keep staring on that for another minute I’ll hit your fucking face!” Trevor shook his head and blinked, turning to Michael who held a basket full of necessities in one hand and a six-pack in the other.  
“Yeah, give me a second”

“Are you going to buy something? Cause we are closing, guys.” Gosh, that woman sounded exactly as bored and annoying as she looked. She definitely was the type to make a plastic surgeon heap in joy upon finding a jackpot customer.

Trevor brushed his fingers on the tray with makeup again and picked out what seemed familiar. A mascara - check. A liner - check. A lipstick - check. Powder - check. Moisturizing cream - well, he didn’t really need that, but those were not his money they blew on the shopping, so why the hell would he hold back on pampering himself. That brought him to masks and scrubs, fake eyelashes and cheap coloured lenses. Trevor topped the basket with a satisfied hum and a couple of packs of pantihose - he picked a type with bright “lifting” inscription on top of them. If he was about to be a girl, he sure wanted to have killer toned calves that would make all men whistle. He was born to be the queen, not a commoner.

When they got the loaded basket to the counter and placed it there with a dramatic thud sound, the woman looked them up and down, her mouth twisted just enough to show her teeth in disgust. Michael did his best to come up with a genuine, toothy smile and leaned a bit closer to her. “We are buying this for Betty - the poor guy” he shot one thumb behind his shoulder and pointed to Trevor, who was trying out sunglasses, snickering “didn’t know what to pick. Sorry for making you wait”  
The woman’s suspicious eyes darted to Trevor and back and continued with registering each item in the basket with a raised eyebrow. Apparently, she didn’t know Betty, which might have been the better option because the second thing that came up Michael’s mind was that she didn’t find him attractive enough to engage in a conversation.  
He clapped his hands together and tried to shine some light into the poor woman’s life with yet another of his charming smiles, but the only answer was beeping of the cash register and muffled laughs behind his back. Finally, the last item was checked and Michael tugged a couple of banknotes into the woman’s hand, patted it and turned around to leave with a stuffed paper bag under his arm. Pacing back to the entrance, he grasped Trevor’s arm and grabbed him out of the shop with another muffled ring of the bell. When they were finally out in the street, he turned around just to see the woman flipping a card with “Come on in! We’re open!” hanging on the door to somehow less welcoming “Sorry, we’re closed” and crossed her arms, glaring at them.

****************

“Look, these are fine, but the fabric is too thick” Michael felt a wave palpable exhaustion wash over him. “And I think my butt is too big in those.” Was he seriously having this conversation with a man his age? Why the hell was he even there, holding thousands of bags, followed by suspicious eyes of two shop assistants? On the other hand, he would be watching the bizarre fashion show with a gaping mouth too if the model was a balding bearded hobo.  
“Look, T, I don’t give a fuck about the size of your ass - just pick one and go!” He did his best not to sound pleading but failed miserably.  
“Are you serious? Do really want me to wear this crap?”  
A rustling of the green plaid curtain was an omen of horrors to come and Michael barely managed to brace himself for what he was about to see.  
“I. Am. NOT going out in something like THIS!” Trevor’s pouting face showed up as he jerked the curtain away, never breaking eye contact with Michael, making the thick air inside the changing room area swirl and his long skirt flapped around in a vain attempt to escape. In the background, one of the shop assistants fainted.  
“Told ya!” Trevor snarled and hunched his back, which made his black velvet maxi dress puff up in places it shouldn’t and made him an almost perfect impersonation of a vulture, especially with a turtleneck collar tucked all the way up to his jaw. Black sleeves were stretched out on his shoulders and threatened to burst with every slight movement, while the loose hem was licking Trevor’s shins and calves, obviously designed for someone shorter.  
“For fuck’s sake, take it off, T” Michael let out a sigh and shifted uncomfortably on his feet, listening to the annoyed babble behind the curtain.  
He was feeling uncomfortably hot under all the plastic. The bags were loaded with clothes and shoes, groceries and he could swear the paper bag they got in the drugstore started tearing, not to mention the weight of their goods was sure to leave his back sore the next day. In following minutes that felt like centuries, he focused on a sole idea - this was the last shop they would have to go to and then they would retreat to their room. It was his only hope in the middle of the mustard-yellow walls of the clothes shop, filled with heaps of stuffy clothes which all looked the same to him. No fake smiles on bleached posters or mannequins on makeshift stages could ever convince him to buy anything else but a pair of jeans, a white top, a polo shirt and a leather jacket. It was a sure choice, one of the few certainties in this wild wild world he could actually rely on - much like number 9 large in Burger Shot, or a Solomon Richard’s movie. Or a nice bottle of whiskey and cigars. Or all of that combined into a perfect evening.  
Michael was shaken from his thoughts by a strong hand and his eyes traced the familiar limb from tips of its fingers up to a hairy forearm and then to a muscular shoulder. Only then he blinked and saw Trevor as a whole, sporting an expectant expression, eyebrows raised with slightly open lips whispering a silent question. Michael could not help but to gulp and let his mouth gape too. Trevor’s curves must have changed while he was dressing up because his bust made up a perfect triangle, running all the way down from his shoulders to his waist, which was defined and slender under the pitch-black fabric. Right below it, the dress stretched over delicate round muscles, contrasted by two sharp peaks of his pelvic bones and then it run loose around his plump thighs only to cover half of them. Michael forgot about the weight he was holding for a moment and stared in awe, biting his lip with a wild mental image of Trevor’s butt under the stretched black dress.

“Well, what do you think?” Trevor’s fingers squeezed his shoulder once again and sent him back to the cruel reality of the shop, his hostage’s ass shoved away from his mind.  
“Uh… I… I like it” Michael stuttered after a short while, meeting Trevor’s eyes with a pleading look, trying to convey what he was thinking.  
“You hesitated!” Trevor pouted again, his temper visibly flaring, completely missing Michael’s lust. “You hate it!” Michael rolled his eyes and let out a growl with a sudden eruption of pent-up anger that was making its way up to his guts. Fine, he asked for it. That was a point of no return.

“Jesus T, this one is PERFECT, ALRIGHT? FUCKING A!” The other shop assistant jumped and covered herself behind a clothes rack, visibly shaken by a sudden outburst while Trevor’s face turned crimson.

“DON’T SHOUT AT ME DICK I’M A LADY! WHERE ARE YOUR MANNERS, EH?”

“Oh ho ho, buddy, I’ll tell you where they are. UP YOUR TIGHT WHITE ASS AND I’LL FIST THEM OUT FOR YOU IF YOU WANT TO SEE THEM SO BAD!”.  
Michael instinctively balled his fists, ready to leap and plant them onto Trevor’s flesh when the paper bag slipped from under his arm and hit the grimy ground with a terrifying finality, spilling everything on the ground.  
Oh wasn’t that just fucking perfect? Michael rolled his eyes and clapped his thigh with his hands, twisting to face away from it, while Trevor was caught in a hysterical fit of laughter and collapsed on his knees, unable to stand and wheezed.  
Michael threw all the other bags to the changing room opposite Trevor’s and pinched bridge of his nose. Ok, they had a dress, the only thing left was to pick everything up and get back to their air-conditioned haven. Just one last thing and it would be over for good. There was hope. Michael put on the sweetest smile he could and approached the shop assistant who ducked and covered her face in fear.  
“Hey, honey, could you give me an extra bag?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Trevor and Michael run out of money, upon which Michael contacts Lester and discuss their next job. Once they arrive at the town they want to rob, they start to plan and arrange for the big day.
> 
> I know this has a filler vibe to it because I aimed at developing their relationship and adding a bit more comedy and background into the story - I promise there are chunky raisins for everybody (WLIIA nerd alert) in the next chapter. We'll get more action (I may mean sexual, I may not. We'll find out) and we'll take a look on the dark side in chapter 6. Thanks for reading, stay tuned! :)


	6. Tiger, tiger, burning bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 wraps up the couple's stay in the town of Springfield. For the full summary, see the notes at the end of the chapter.  
It is raw and heavy, with occasional joke, but as we gradually head towards the finish, there is nothing much to make fun of about anymore.
> 
> *Before you start reading, be warned - this chapter contains implied rape, abuse, domestic violence, brutality and weird kinks. In case you want to skip it, head to the summary*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow! This chapter alone consists of 7898 words! Given the fact this one is taking place roughly in the half of the story, the whole concept is much juicier than I initially thought it would be. I guess my inner long books nerd is showing because the story is now 28,274 words/113 pages long :D
> 
> Thanks to all of you who left kudos, bookmarked, subscribed or even just read this story. I am eternally grateful I can share my passion with you through this project!

When the door of the room finally clicked behind them, Michael let out a deep breath and collapsed onto his bed, limbs spread in search of comfort. It was already dark outside, way later than he had planned initially and that short receptionist didn’t help it either when he was babbling something about their imaginary relative. Trevor was eager to speak with Tran, laughing and picking up so many details it made Michael wonder whether he knew who he was talking about in person or whether he came up with so much bullshit on the spot.  
A soft, low humming coming from the bathroom gave him half the answer and made him raise his head from the comfortable spot. Trevor was bobbing up and down in a rhythm of some made-up song he was humming and filled a small bathroom cabinet with his makeup and cosmetics. Things he didn’t need or know were scattered all across the bathroom tile floor, with a new one adding up to the picture every now and then, accumulating into random piles. A small smile betrayed Michael’s self-control while he watched Trevor. Maybe this was how things were meant to be from the start. Once in his miserable excuse for a life, he felt fine with the person by his side. He could not explain it, but he trusted Trevor even though he was unpredictable and childish at times.  
“Um, Michael?” Now that was an annoying habit to interrupt his thoughts, that was for sure. Michael sat up slowly with a groan.  
“What?” His back protested when he slouched. Fuck, he needed a massage.  
“Could you help me out here?” an echo of Trevor’s voice bounced inside tiled walls like a bullet. Michael rolled his eyes and fell back onto his bed. “No. You bought it, you sort it, that’s the deal”. There was no way Michael did anything this evening. Not with the soft duvet sinking him.  
“Yeah, but I kinda don’t know how to wax and I won’t make it alone”. Well, there went his plans for the evening. Fuck.

***************

“Fine, so first of all, let’s wash you and shave your head” Trevor eyed Michael with shocked puppy eyes.  
“Don’t think I’ll fall for that, pal. Get in the bath now.” Michael was serious about that. His finger pointed firmly towards the steaming pool of water. Trevor wasn’t a fan of personal hygiene, but as long as he got Michael to touch him, he was fine with it. Reluctantly, he stepped into the tub and sit down to let the warm wetness envelop him. The hair on his legs floated happily as he splashed around, his skin sucking moisture in with relief to the point it started itching and tingling. He knew Michael was idly watching him, arms akimbo, and a mischievous idea crossed his mind.  
“I bought a scrub” he pointed at a bright orange tube, giving Michael a wide-eyed puppy look, trying his best to sound cute and innocent. Michael quirked an eyebrow and stood still for a second and then snorted in that kind of way he would if he had to pet a stinky skunk, but Trevor knew he only acted. “I always light your cigarette, remember? And massage you when your back hurt” Trevor batted his eyelashes and twisted his arms together, impersonating a teenage girl. “I also sucked you off yesterday and got you a breakfast to bed...” Michael’s eyes were weary, dark circles below his eyes screaming defeat as he listened to the seemingly endless list of favours he has yet repaid. Trevor could already see he won the battle - he just needed to push a little further.  
“Ok, fine, but just today” Michael sighed and stretched for the scrub.

Trevor was shaking with anticipation when he heard the cap of tube click behind his back and the humidity suddenly soaked an artificial orange scent. Michael’s hands were always so rough with him, never missing a chance to pinch, squeeze, hit and scratch - could they be gentle at all? How different would their sex be if they were? Was Michael always like that - hidden behind a wall of denial, armed with sarcasm and balled fists ready to blow, or was he gentle and sensitive before? What kind of life had he gone through to harden like that?  
When Trevor felt the first drop of cold gel meet skin on his back, his thread of reason snapped and his thoughts were scattered around, helpless against a wave of pleasure. The light touch of Michael’s fingertips sent sparkles down his spine. They tingled through his torso, tickled his toes and bounced right back to happily leap into his heart. Trevor didn’t know much about the bible or religion, but he was sure the sensation he felt as Michael spread the scrub over his shoulders in gentle circles was the one Eve had risked Eden for. He didn’t care about the goosebumps Michael surely felt, nor about his arousal growing where Michael could surely see. His head fell back as he moaned, eyes screwed shut, Michael’s hot fingers easing his muscles.  
“Horny?” a soft pad of breath caressed his ear. Trevor hummed as an answer - words have betrayed him. All he was capable of was to relax into rhythm Michael set, lost in the middle of time and space. With every gentle circle, he could feel the warmth of two strong palms an inch closer to his aching centre until a sudden grasp took him by surprise and his hips bucked forward by themselves. A needy whine filled the room when Trevor looked back into Michael’s dark, shark-like eyes.  
“Not yet, you filthy slut. Do you think anyone would ever want to touch that Dirty... Disgusting... Cock?” Michael’s grip tightened and gave him a couple of painful strokes to emphasize his words. Trevor’s breath got caught up in his chest as he cried, incredibly turned on by the deep voice beside him. “You fucking animal, you’ll pay for making me wash it”. The cold touch of scrub on the tip made Trevor bite his lip, but the strong grip of Michael’s hand as it spread the gel all over his length set it on fire in a matter of seconds and he had to hold back a hiss. The soap actually burned him, rough grains grated sensitive skin and the pain was sure to push him over the top, crying out Michael’s name. Just as he felt the familiar energy building up, the grip was gone and his hips fell back down into the water with a pathetic splash. When he looked into Michael’s face, confused, he was met with a cheeky grin and tip of tongue brushing his lips. Fuck, he was a heartless tease. “Mikey… please...” he managed to breathe out in a shaky plea before his cheek got slapped and a strong hand grasped his face roughly, squishing it.  
“Who do you think you are, you piece of turd?” Michael growled, hovering inches apart from Trevor, teeth bare. “I am the one who sets the rules. Know your fucking place, scum!” and let go of his head with a scoff, turning away from him. The only sound that cut the silence was a stream of water where the sink must have been and paper boxes being torn to pieces.  
For a second, Trevor thought Michael won’t come back, left alone in a rapidly cooling broth of his own filth, but as soon as he felt a light touch in his hair and familiar fingers running up and down his scalp, his eyelids shut off the world and let his senses focus solely on the sensation of being touched. Michael made sure to spread the soap slowly onto his hair and beard as if he didn’t threaten him a moment ago. Trevor relaxed completely into the reassuring pressure. How come every second he spent with Michael felt like flying a jet? Familiar dance macabre high in the vast open of dark blue, just a touch away from stars. What would it be like if they were an actual couple? A throb between his thighs offered an easy answer. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to elaborate on the wave of excitement - a touch of cold metal startled him and his eyes shot wide open as he jumped. Michael sat on the rim of the tub, a razor in his hand. The way he was towering above him made Trevor gulp audibly and grasp the rim of the bath. Was he going to cut him? And why the fuck was the idea of Michael slowly slicing his skin so damn arousing?  
“Hold still, T. Do you want me to cut you?” Yes. “No”. Shit, did he moan? “No! definitely not!”  
Michael’s lips shivered with mischief. “Look what you made me do”. He slowly closed the distance between them until his lips were a mere touch away from Trevor’s neck. He spat on the exposed skin, run his thumb over it to wash off the soap and then his lips sucked in a light cut the first touch of razor left.  
A high-pitched “Oh, Mikey…” was all he was able to moan out as the sudden kiss made him breathless. He could feel Michael’s tongue brush over the split skin, sucking his blood in, and could not help but imagine him licking a different slit somewhere else on his body. The dangerous energy was back, flowing through him, every second of Michael’s lips stretched to eternity.  
“That should stop the bleeding” A wet patch on Trevor’s neck felt lonely and cold. He didn’t open his eyes right away, mourning the loss of contact, but chose to open them once the razor slid up his neck and caressed his jaw and face in one smooth motion.  
Michael’s face turned to stone-like as he focused on his work and gave Trevor some time to admire him. Michael knew how to push all his buttons - he sure was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. No one was gorgeous and deadly at the same time the way Michael was. It wasn’t humanly possible. Trevor’s eyes travelled up and down his figure before settling on his eyes.  
He was fixed on them when he was completely shaved, rinsed and then dried with a soft towel. Michael’s lips moved as he watched his face, but the words could not quite make it over Trevor’s mental image of Michael dropping to his knees and…  
“I said sit down, damn it! Wake up, Trevor!” That slap wasn’t necessary. At all. But he did just what he was asked to do. Maybe it was the way Michael liked it - rough and dominating. That would make sitting on a rapidly cooling bathtub rim sufferable.  
A slap of something hot on his back caught him off guard. Was that the wax? The hot substance burned him for a split second before turning lukewarm, easing muscles underneath. It wasn’t as bad as he heard, what was the big de-… “Oh SHIT!”. That was… intense. Fuck. The patch of skin Michael just bared with a sharp pull turned bright red. Trevor’s cock jumped happily. What the fuck was going on and why the fuck it made him horny?  
“What are you doing?” Trevor wailed.  
“Well, I’m waxing your back.” as if he didn’t know. Thanks, captain obvious.  
“Why does it hurt so much?” A tear rolled down his cheek. Fuck.  
“Is this your first time?” a chuckle in Michael’s voice made him uncomfortable. So what, he was a wax virgin. He should have been honoured by popping this cherry, not making fun of it. Another splat of hot wax on his back made Trevor close his eyes. This was fine, he could do it. No big deal. Just let it happen.

“You cry like a bitch” Trevor could not give a fuck anymore. His eyes teared up when Michael waxed around his nipples and he was silently begging him to stop already. His back was as smooth as the day he came out of his mother’s muff, his legs and arms pristine. After having his armpits waxed, he swore he would never make fun of hairy women again. He had absolutely no idea he had so much fur. The only places still intact were his crotch and ass. He let that realisation sink in and fixed his teary eyes on his penis. As if it knew, it bobbed up and down happily, anticipating the pain. “Relax, it’s Michael, he hurts you good” was what it seemingly wanted to say. Trevor wanted to believe it. After all, his penis never let him down.  
With the last patch of hair on his belly gone, he felt the wax spread around the happy stiff idiot. “Ready for the interesting part?” Something in Michael’s voice sounded wicked and bemused. Damn it if he hasn’t had his dick waxed at some point in the past. At the very same moment, his vision went black for a split second as Michael’s other hand grasped his penis and held it still. Trevor could not help but let a moan slip as a strong hand pulled off the wax patch and pumped him at the same time. The sound filled the silent bathroom and earned him a raised eyebrow and curious grin. Yet another wet, hot slap of wax on his skin. “Mmm… Mikey!” He didn’t give a shit anymore. He wanted him to hurt him more and take him to the much-awaited finish - and Michael could surely tell by the way Trevor eagerly spread his legs and let the hot liquid envelop his balls. Michael’s eyes locked with Trevor’s, focused on cries of pleasure and his clean face twisted in lust, soothing the pain with slow, light strokes. Trevor didn’t even realize Michael turned him around and made his ass wiggle in the air, desperate for attention, still holding onto his shaft. The only answer to Trevor’s pleading for more was patches of hot wax around his ass and heavenly tension building up with each gentle touch Michael gave him. The bastard was edging him all along, and Trevor could not hold back anymore. His heart raced against his ribs, his mind blank. He was almost there. Just one last touch…  
“Mikey!”  
The pull of a wax patch and the sudden tightness of Michael’s hand blew him away. For a split second, there was just him, shaking, floating away from space and time, releasing the pleasure in waves of perfect ecstasy. His body spasmed and fell on his knees while he was slowly coming down, relishing in the feeling. His ragged breath evened out eventually and only then Trevor collected strength to open his eyes but regretted it instantly. “Fuck, I came in my eye!”

***********************

Michael was positively impressed. More than that, actually - he could not help but put on a smug smile when he watched himself in a mirror. A dark blue suit emphasized all the important parts of his body, making it bulky and athletic. His pink shirt gave away the right amount of flamboyant and jolly he wanted people to see. His carefully trimmed beard lined his jaw, making it sharp and youthful, his outgrown hair combed back. Damn, he would fuck his own reflection if it was possible.  
“Mmmm… Someone’s definitely too sexy for their shirt” a low voice made Michael turn around and his chin gave away to gravity in a split second. If Michael thought he looked good in his new outfit, Trevor was absolutely stunning. He stood, leaning on the door frame, arms folded, light crowning his new, dark brown, curly wig with a golden halo. His face suddenly looked different - all his miraculous masks and creams along with carefully applied make-up worked wonders on him. Under plucked eyebrows, his eyes glowed, framed by thick black eyeliner and a fan of fake eyelashes. The colour of his irises changed thanks to lenses he applied and this new dark emerald took Michael’s breath away. He noticed how full Trevor’s lips appeared now he painted them dark red with a matte lipstick and fought back the urge to kiss it away while his sight slid lower. He was hungrily taking in a gorgeous sight of Trevor’s hourglass figure - broad chest, sleek waist and vulgar hips barely hidden behind the pitch-black dress. Michael absent-mindedly licked his lips when his eyes lay on toned legs that finished with feet in cocky black high heels.  
“Oh, um...Nice tits!” Michael blurted out to cover up his arousal and to lift the silence, not paying attention to how stupid it sounded. Someone’s ass would be sore tonight and it wouldn’t be his.  
“Oh, you noticed?” Trevor grinned as he squeezed his padded chest with both hands. “They even feel real!” and proceeded to shake them in his hands, chuckling. “Look!” he shouted as he approached Michael and cornered him, shaking fake boobs mere millimetres away from his face.  
“Ugh, stop it, CUT THAT SHIT OUT, T!” Michael’s hands flew up in protest and flapped around aimlessly as he did his best to get his face out of Trevor’s reach. Laughter and a sleek body pressed against his was the only answer. “You’ll ruin my hair, dammit!” He tried and showed Trevor’s shoulder lightly, in hopes the lie would set him free. His cock could only get so hard.  
“Ok, fine, but don’t get mad if I hook up with someone less narcissistic than you, cupcake” Trevor pouted and took a step back, adjusting his unbelievably real fake breasts.  
“Suit yourself, buddy.” Michael patted his clothes and even out folds. “Just don’t fucking come here with your date or I swear I’ll shoot your balls off.”  
“Where else should I go?” Trevor threw his hands in the air, black polished fingernails slashing it with passion “I ain’t a hoe to fuck in a dirty alley! Plus, whenever I masturbate without a lube my ass gets sore and...”  
“Shit, I don’t care, ok?” Michael’s face twisted in an ugly frown as he interrupted. “Enough with your bullshit - let’s get going” and swung the door open for the lady to emerge the room first.

***********************

The midday sun grilled the streets of Springfield with murderous intensity when the wheels of their rented white coupe - well, they stole it, but they intended to park it back where it stood later - screeched to a halt in front of the posh-looking shop. Trevor checked himself in the rearview mirror, puckered his lips and set out of the car, letting the hem of his dress so high up his lace underwear flashed for a split second. Behind his large circular sunglasses, he easily caught a glimpse of several men turning, checking him out. He put up a cocky smile as he slowly bent over and shut the door, his dress leaving little to the imagination stretched around his plump ass. A wolf whistle this action earned was cut short by a forced cough.  
“We are not even married yet and you act like a whore already”. Michael pierced him with a dead-serious glare. “Can’t you at least pretend you are a lady for a minute?”  
“Oh, darling, but that’s why you love me, eh?” Trevor mused in a high-pitched voice, placing his hand on Michael’s shoulder and hovered his dark red lips close to Michael’s ear. “I can’t help it, all I think of is getting my brains fucked out when I see you in the suit” he added in a quiet, husky voice and grinned devilishly when Michael’s shoulder shivered for a split second under his hold. Did Michael seriously think he could get away with edging him for hours and then laughing at him for cumming all over the bathroom? “You bastard” Michael growled under his breath. Grabbing Trevor’s hand and squeezing it tight, he stomped toward the small shop and stormed inside. Trevor could not help but let a wide grin split his face. He gave Michael a semi, he was sure.

To say all eyes were on them would not quite capture how much the atmosphere in the shop changed once the couple entered. The large glass door clacked close behind them and the only sound echoing in the hum of the air condition was a steady beat of high heels drumming against the polished stone floor. The faces of shop assistants were as blunt and empty as the most of the shop, reflections of their combed back hair, turtleneck dresses and wide eyes staring back at them from the carefully polished glass of jewellery displays. All heads of shoppers turned in what felt like ages, watching swaying hips under the black dress, parted lips and slender hand, clutching the corner of the sunglasses. A gasp filled the air once the smoky glass finally uncovered a pair of dark emerald eyes.  
“Hello, darling” Trevor’s deep voice filled the dim shop with a spark of excitement. The young lady behind a black marvel counter pursued her lips in a desperate attempt to keep her cool and nodded, letting the towering woman smile down on her. “Could you show me what wedding rings you offer?” The whole room swayed with a sigh. The tension fell off the marble-plated walls and landed onto slender vases in corners of the shop. Two couples who came there before carried on shopping, wasting their hard-earned money on skillfully modelled chunks of metal they didn’t need to prove the world they could share a surname and exchange genetic material.  
Michael still stood by the door, scrutinizing each millimetre of the shop, arms folded, when a bulky man in a slightly washed out suit stepped beside him and mirrored his posture. Michael spared him a sideways glance. The man basically pierced Trevor’s ass with his gaze and looked as if he would burst like a bubble if he didn’t speak up. Michael let his imagination run wild with the idea of guts splashed across the polished stone and could not help but let corners of his mouth quirk upwards, still watching the security guard. Unsurprisingly, once he spotted Michael’s eyes on him, his mouth fell open in a world record speed. “Hey, sorry to interrupt you, but damn me if I don’t ask. Is she your sister?” Michael’s eyebrow quirked up as he watched the man dry his forehead with a cuff of his shirt. “‘cause she’s HOT!”  
A chuckle escaped Michael unintentionally as he shook his head and looked into the man’s dark brown eyes. He couldn’t wait to break his heart. “Nah, man, she’s my fianceé”. The stranger’s eyes widened with fear and even though his cheeks were as dark as the marble floor and made it nearly invisible, blush made the air around him a couple of degrees warmer instantly. “Oh, um, sorry, I didn’t mean… well...uh” he babbled and tugged his collar nervously, shuffling away from Michael who barely held back a grin. “Don’t worry about it, buddy, I’m used to it.” he shrugged and placed a firm hand on the guard’s shoulder to prevent him from fleeing. “She’s just a whore I picked up a couple of months ago. Honestly, I wanted to dump her after I had my fill, but I realized I had a thing for watching other men fuck her. She can’t help herself - you buy her a drink and she’s already down on her knees.” Michael felt proud of his little backup story. Just the right amount of honesty and bullshit. Shake, do not stir, serve on ice and then just let them fall for it. A filthy smile tugged his lips as he watched the guard gulp. He knew what he was thinking about. “What’s your name, pal? We’re staying in town for a while before the honeymoon, maybe we could meet somewhere private, you know…” Michael licked his lips, “to get to know each other better”. The poor guy munched the bait along with the hook, he must have, because Michael’s fingertips sensed the slightest shiver underneath them and his eyes could not miss a twitch under the guard’s fly. “It’s Mike, sir, what’s your name?” “Miguel, come here, suga’” Michael sucked in a breath and frowned towards Trevor, who leaned on one of the displays, with a shop assistant suffering in silence above him, eyeing smudges on the previously pristine glass. “I simply can’t decide - the classic diamond is cute, but oh my god look at that sapphire! That would look So COOOL on you because this is EXACTLY your eye colour” Michael let out a sigh. “Choose whatever, it’s just a stone after all.” “Ex-cuse me?!” Trevor stiffened and straightened right away, “Just a STONE? Those are our wedding rings, Miguelito!” Michael glared at him and shook his head slightly, trying to signal he was not prepared to leave the shop yet. Trevor looked perplexed for a moment. “Trisha, baby, adults are talking” Michael gestured with his free hand and finally, he could see a spark of understanding behind the plastic veil of green. Trevor sulked half-heartedly and turned his back to them “Fine, whatever,” he looked over his shoulder, a flirtatious twitch in a corner of his mouth, eyeing the young guard “just get me that fine gentleman’s number and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

***********************

At the very same second the door to their room closed behind them, Michael surged forward and pressed his lips against Trevor’s in a hungry kiss. Their teeth clashed and he could taste blood for a second, but he could not stop himself from drinking Trevor in. “What… what did he...oh fuck! tell you?” Trevor panted the question into the turmoil of their mouths, unbuttoning Michael’s shirt in a haste “Just one camera…” Michael breathed out in a low, longing voice, “and only one girl on shift tomorrow... “ He yanked Trevor closer by his hips, thumbs digging in soft flesh underneath. “He’ll come here tonight, you’ll make sure he misses his shift tomorrow” With eyes half-lidded, he ran his tongue along the appealing pale skin on Trevor’s neck. “He wants a taste of you, but you know what? I won’t let him take the first bite”. The sharp touch of teeth made Trevor shiver. Michael let the wave of excitement echo through him and held onto his prey, sucking the skin in. “You are mine” he whispered as he bit Trevor’s ear. Grabbing a handful of Trevor’s fake hair, Michael yanked backwards to savour on delicate skin stretching on the smooth jaw as his other hand explored the fine curve of Trevor’s body till it landed on his ass. He could not wait for Trevor to disrobe, there was no time. No damn time to prepare his fix. Trevor was a drug and he needed a truckload at once. All the muffled moans and hot hands touching all over him only fed his flame.  
Just when Trevor managed to squeeze his ass, Michael threw him on the bed without too much care. For a moment, he drank in the picture he created - Trevor’s flushed cheeks and smudged lipstick, erratic breaths escaping his broad chest, his black dress barely covering lace underwear bulged with his own desire and long smooth legs in black high heels. He could not wait. Not anymore. It only took him a second to let himself free from his pants and spit on his hand, spreading it over his tip. Just one skilled pull and Trevor’s panties were shoved aside. Taking hold of one of Trevor’s legs, he navigated himself to the heaven’s door and pushed inside with all he got.

Trevor’s nails dug deep into the mattress as it was swaying all over the bed and he let out a pained hiss. Michael was way too big and way too dry for him. He wanted this, he wanted this so bad, but not like that. The way he was tossed around, the way Michael hammered inside without care lost in his own pleasure, he felt like a piece of garbage. Before he knew it, he disconnected completely from what was done to him, like during all those time he received a beating. It wasn’t him, the one with a dick up his ass, it wasn’t his body lubricating his entrance with blood. He was the man laying on his bed, watching dust particles glow in the afternoon sun. They flew in patterns, dancing around until they touched down on the hideous furniture. He followed one all the way down from the pink ceiling down to the bed when he once again saw the man who did something to his body. The air was stirred around him by his frantic motion and puffs of air escaping his mouth. Trevor watched in dread as the dark hair thinned before his eyes, uncovering dirty patches of yellowish skin. His leather jacket breathed out the stomach-stirring stench of staled beer and cigarettes. No. Not again. Trevor’s eyes filled with tears. When they rolled down his cheeks and cleared his vision once again, the man’s head yanked backwards to uncover his father’s face.

Michael didn’t care or know why Trevor’s ass clenched so much at once. He didn’t need to know. All he was capable of was finally getting over the edge with the smooth hot flesh milking him, leaving his legs trembling with the force of his orgasm. It wasn’t the best fuck he ever had, but it was enough for him to feel pleasantly spent. Catching his breath, he opened his eyes to Trevor’s completely petrified face, black smudges running from his eyes. The way he curled into a ball on the blood and semen-soiled pink duvet, the way he shivered with eyes wide, it all screamed guilt back on Michael. He never was a man of sensual love-making, but his hook-ups were never as messed up as his new interest. Who cares, maybe they were, but the wreck of a man in front of him meant something to him he could not quite explain. Did he just hurt him? Was he too harsh? Was violence the only way to express he cared for someone? Michael’s mind was flooded with nagging questions, barking loud in his mind, revolving about the image of Trevor, lying hurt right before him. His chest closed on him, preventing him from breathing, constricted by a strange pain he never felt before. To top the growing mountain of emotion, panic joined the feast of misery and sent him stumbling back towards the door. He had to get away from there. “I… I need a smoke” he mumbled and ran into the dim corridor, echoes of quiet sobs haunting his heart.

***********************

Neither of them could sleep. Michael could feel a pair of dark eyes fixed on him, effectively drilling a hole into his face. Ever since the first shock was sated with a cigarette, he was thinking about talking to Trevor but didn’t quite know how to bring the topic up. That only pushed him to do the easiest thing - he kept silent and let the night pass from the midnight velvet to a shy hint of mint blue behind the window. An occasional muffled moan coming from the closet reminded him of their new companion. Maybe all the world’s problems revolved around sticking your dick somewhere you shouldn’t, he elaborated. Maybe his old crotch buddy was the one responsible for him laying in a room, listening to the eerie silence. Speaking of dicks, he should probably say something to his companion, make him active again. It wasn’t anything like Trevor to keep his mouth shut and just lay down. Eventually, he scrambled up enough courage and cleared his throat. “So, what did you do to him anyway?”  
The words sounded fresh and genuine to him as they dissolved in the dark without an answer. When he turned his head to frown into Trevor’s face, he found him opening his mouth for the first time in a long while. “I gave him the pill you had in your wallet. Put it on my tongue and kissed him, he swallowed it.” Trevor sucked in a shaky breath before he continued. Michael watched him carefully. That was a good start. “Then, I found a clothesline in the closet and tied him up, put him inside there.” “Uh-huh” Michael turned again to look on the ceiling. A stray ray of sunlight let itself in and stared back at him. He felt his words choking him. He should have stayed quiet.  
“Michael?” the raspy, weak voice startled him. He didn’t feel like talking anymore. The hurt in the air was all too familiar. “Hm?”  
“Do you have children?”  
Michael found himself completely dumbfounded, turning his head to meet the amber gaze, eyebrows shot up to his hairline.  
“How does it relate to…”  
“Do you?” Trevor demanded, the sharp outline of his naked body highlighted by the dusk with a strange intensity Michael could not resist.  
“I do. A girl and a boy.” He gulped, his tank top suddenly too tight for his chest. He hasn’t seen his children ever since the divorce. How old were they now?  
“Have you ever hit them?” the voice that asked brought grief about and cooled the room down instantly. No one ever said opening up would be easy, right?  
“I did.”  
“Why?”  
“Accident. I don’t want to talk about it.”  
“Are you married?” Michael sighed. Maybe he fucked Trevor so hard he made him partially deaf or just plain stupid.  
“I am. Was. It’s complicated.”  
“Did you beat her?” Michael’s stomach turned upside down with the image that played right in front of his eyes, the pale pink ceiling his own personal silver screen. He saw himself shouting in rage, fighting with Amanda who’s cheeks were crimson with anger. He saw himself plunge forward, his palm meeting soft skin with deadly velocity. He could see her sobbing on the floor, cupping her dislocated jaw in trembling hand. Fast forward a memory or two, he could see himself breaking a wine bottle she bought without his consent. An angry slash of sharp glass against pale skin on her chest and he could see drops of blood colouring her white dress. The last thing that made it out of the abyss of his memory was the image of him, squeezing her neck hard as he fucked her. He knew she loved it when she was coked up. He loved it too. The thrill of holding someone’s life in his hand was something he had never said no to.  
“I did.”  
“Did you love her?” Michael found himself completely lost. He asked himself the same question too many times already. Suddenly, it hung above him as the proverbial sword, ready to slice him in half.  
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Why do you even ask something so stupid? Give me a break with the interrogation”  
“Sorry, Mikey.”  
The room fell silent again with the first sight of the sun peering over the horizon.  
Michael felt his head pounding, urging to ask questions himself. Fuck it, if that was their honesty hour, he might as well have his fill.  
“Have you ever had sex with a man before?”  
the slightest creak of the neighbouring bed indicated he had Trevor’s attention. That was a good sign, even though the silence hung heavy between them for far longer than he would have liked.  
“I had.” Trevor’s confession was silent and shaky. Michael bit his lip, trying to hold back a throng of questions flooding his mind. All his thought suddenly felt like maggots, eating him away from inside. Turning his head to face Trevor again, he had to spill at least some them out.  
“Tell me about him”  
At first, Trevor just closed his eyes in a slow wink, probably collecting strength. Taking a deep breath, Trevor opened up again and spoke up.  
“He was my father.”  
the only answer was Michael’s gasp. Now he understood why he was asking about his family. Trevor knew exactly where his mind was taking him and continued.  
“He hated me. He beat my mother all the time because he thought I was not his. I heard him shout she should have rather had an abortion than giving birth to me.”  
Silently, Michael cringed over all the times he beat Trevor just because he was not in the mood. Shit, if he thought his upbringing was though, Trevor’s was a whole different level of insanity.  
“He left me in a shopping mall when I was four so I burned the place down later. I wanted him to know he could not just walk away from me. I spent some time in foster places all over the states, but they sent me back when I was thirteen. They said I was deranged and uncontrollable. No one wanted me” Trevor’s voice cut off abruptly, shaking with a pent up cry. “My father was still at home when I returned. The beating was worse than before. One day, he came home drunk, tied me up and… and raped me” Michael’s heart clenched and hoped it was just his imagination playing tricks on his tired brain.  
“And from then on, he did it every day. He said it was the only thing trash like I was good for. And I thought, no, I knew he was right. One day, my mother walked in on us and threw him out of the house. I haven’t seen him again ever since. Shortly after, my mom got addicted to pills and I run away.” A heavy sigh made Michael spring upon his bed.  
“How old were you when you run away?”  
“I was fifteen.”  
“So he kept doing it for…”  
“Two years. Yeah.” Trevor finished the sentence for him, curling into a ball.  
Michael wanted to say he was sorry but could not find the right words. His mind was too preoccupied with dealing with the new emotion he did not quite understand. Sliding his legs over the edge of the mattress, he suddenly remembered one of his beloved classics and decided to probe the idea. Slowly, cautiously, he climbed into Trevor’s bed and squeezed his hands on Trevor’s cold skin. The only answer was a slight shiver. He could proceed. Snaking his arms around Trevor’s body, he pushed himself forward till his mouth landed lightly on the other man’s forehead. There was something oddly comforting in holding Trevor close, be it during cold nights in their van or in the comfort of the bed. Reluctantly, as if afraid of startling him, a pair of slender legs intertwined with his and a couple of strong arms locked around his waist. Once his eyes were out of sight, hidden in Michael’s chest, Trevor let his emotions loose. Michael squeezed, pushing Trevor closer, feeling hot wetness seeping through his shirt. The light on the ceiling travelled further towards the door as they lay in close embrace, echoes of sobs accompanying the dancing dust. When Trevor finally calmed down, holding tightly onto Michael as if he was his lifeline, a wild buzzing of the alarm clock announced the reign of the new morning.  
The time has come.

***********************

“Ok, so let’s run through the plan once again.” Michael’s calm, certain voice barely made it tough the thumping in Trevor’s ears. He held onto the steering wheel, knuckles white, palm sweating. He hasn’t done this in ages. He might as well throw up all over the windshield, it would not make his driving any better.  
“You stop in front of the shop, I run inside, you take those bags and run after me. There is only one assistant on shift today and their only security guard’s locked up in the closet.” Trevor snickered nervously. The boy sure was in a closet without even knowing it. “I shoot the camera, you break the glass on displays on the right and on the left - there should be enough in there to keep us up and running for years.”  
Trevor nodded sternly. The makeshift balaklava bit his skin all the way through his pocket.  
“Remember, we get in, we get out, no bullshit. Any questions?”  
“How do I brake?”  
Michael’s face turned the shade of green a passenger of a roller coaster gets when a worn-out bolt flies past his head and he sees the construction crumble while riding towards certain death.  
“What the FUCK Trevor, you begged me to let you drive!”  
“Because you never let me!”  
“Oh shit…! Watch it!” Michael leapt forward and yanked the steering wheel from Trevor’s hands just on time to drive around and old lady passing the road.  
“Hey! I am the driver today, remember? Give it back!” Trevor pouted.  
“Just stop the fucking car!”  
“How?”  
“The middle pedal dammit!”  
Trevor stomped on the pedal, making the van screech in pain, effectively catapulting Michael to the windshield, shoulder first. Only a second later, a hand on his throat made his eyes bulge and meet steel cold ones opposite him.  
“Listen here you little shit…”  
“Jewellery…” Trevor’s finger trembled in the air as he pointed on the dark entrance of the place they went to the day before. He struggled to breathe as Michael’s grasp finally subsided and hastily fished a balaklava out of his pocket, rolling it down his face.  
“We’ll talk about this later. Move your ass now.”

In a split second, Michael jumped out of the car and swiftly made it to the door, holding onto his shotgun. Trevor watched him through the haze of anxiety and anticipation. The sun was barely high enough for people to notice them. The plan was working. Why the hell then he felt like something was terribly off already? There was a bark of the gun - the cam was gone. What if it is all just a set up from that Lester guy? As Michael gestured frantically his way, he shook his head, collected two familiar duffel bags and stormed out of the car.  
The insides of the shop were radiating fear. A young couple was curled up in a dim corner, holding onto each other, trembling. Soft sobs rose from somewhere behind the main counter. Trevor breathed in what was left of the fresh air and broke the glass of the display on his left with a mighty swing of his arms. The hum of the air condition was interrupted by a sharp howl of alarm.  
“Come on, move it, T!” Michael shouted urgently as he ran back to the main door.  
Trevor was trembling. His hands could only rake up so much. He gave up eventually and ripped the whole display off the ground, shaking out what was inside. Michael barely spared him a glance.  
“That’s not enough, get some more!” A steady beat of his heart tuned everything out. He aimed. The glass shattered under the gunstock. He picked it up and peppered the ground with gold-enveloped fruits of child labour. One bag was full. Another display gave to the force. His arms were sore. The second bag was filling up. The sirens blazed from afar. Just one more display and they were done. Sweat obscured his vision. Just a little more time.  
A screech of brakes on incandescent asphalt marked the arrival of their opponents. He should have trusted his gut from the start. Trevor froze on the spot as the sudden realization crashed upon him. The game was over. He stood where he started twenty years ago. The thought of asylum twisted his stomach and made him gag. Not again.  
“What are you standing there for, T, MOVE IT!”  
The windowpane shattered and collapsed to the ground.  
“Oh FUCK!” a pained cry grazed Trevor’s ears. Michael. Michael was shot.  
The world has come to a complete halt. Trevor watched Michael’s blood drip through his fingers, wide-eyed. Michael was hurt. Michael would die. Michael would leave him. His Michael. The only person he would ever love.  
In a split second, the world channelled back with renewed intensity. The blood in Trevor’s ears pounded faster than before. No one hurts Michael without dealing with him first.  
He surged forward. The shotgun Michael held onto a mere minute ago fit easily into his hands. He heard his inner beast once again, roaring through his mouth, hungry for a fresh kill. He kicked the door open and let the orange haze out shadow the sun and blood paint the ground, shotgun blazing.

Michael stumbled to his feet once Trevor stormed out of the shop. Leaning on a wall, he inspected the damage. The wound stung terribly, but it was just a graze. The scar that would leave was nothing a skillfully placed tattoo would not conceal. Still, under all his adrenaline and frantic logic, his fingers were trembling. If he moved a step to the left, he would be laying in a pool of his own blood and brain. Or worse yet, Trevor could have accidentally shielded him. He turned his head to look at the gaping hole in the marble where bullet sank in. His mind offered an overlapping image of Trevor’s eye over the hole and slowly blended them in.  
Michael gulped and shook his head. He needed to push that aside for later. He was still there. Trevor was alive. He had to get them away from there before more cops are after them.  
Scrambling both duffel bags from where Trevor left them, he ducked at the shattered remains of the main shop window. The eerie silence outside was occasionally disturbed by a crumbling piece of marble facing and a distant howl of sirens. The vultures were already circling dangerously close. It took him a second of scrutinizing the empty street to lay eyes on Trevor, who's back was steadily rising and falling in a rhythm of his ragged breath and silent howls. His posture was of a wild, startled animal, the gun in one hand, a piece of bloodied meat in the other. Under the midday sun, his black clothes glittered with droplets that caked rapidly and sent shivers down Michael’s spine.  
In dangerously slow motion, Trevor’s head turned and his gaze met Michael’s. At that moment, Michael had finally seen it - the heated emptiness and bloodlust behind pitch-black irises, devoid of anything humane. There was no playful heat, no teasing twinkle, not even the tiredness he was used to. The man standing upon rapidly cooling corpses was a beast who took Trevor’s soul away. A low growl and flash of bare teeth froze him in place. Could he be coming back to kill him too? Would he do it?  
Michael hesitated for a second before a much closer sound of police cars punched him back to reality. Surging forward, he grasped Trevor’s arm and yanked him towards the van. In a haste, he threw both bags in the back, Trevor followed them in a similar way a second later with a deep growl. Points taken, Michael thought as he grabbed his shotgun from the dirty hand. He would need his brain and his skull intact to drive them away from there.  
A moment later, the van leapt forward, engine roaring, speeding through the shell-shocked streets of yet another town that didn’t matter anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
Michael plans out a heist and with Trevor's help, they check the place out first for any hidden catch.  
Trevor is flirtatious towards other men while in disguise, which leads Michael to the point of forcing himself on him.  
After a sleepless night filled, they finally talk it out, uncovering something very painful from Trevor's history.  
The chapter is finished off with a heist that does not go exactly as planned - Michael is wounded and Trevor's mental state worsens as he falls back into a murderous frenzy.


End file.
